Moving On
by Ms. Zeal
Summary: Morgana was defeated, Balthazar reunited with Veronica and Dave got the girl. But, Horvath has never been a big believer in 'happily ever after'...
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 1**

"If I'd known you'd be caught so easily, I'd have tried this method centuries ago," Balthazar remarked casually, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the bars.

"As if that would have done you any good," Horvath replied dryly.

Balthazar's lips curved into a grin. "Seems to have worked this time."

"Only because you currently have possession of my cane," Horvath snapped, the stress of the last twenty-four hours showing. "When I'm released, that clerk is going to pay dearly for this."

"Keep talking like that and they'll keep you longer just on principle."

Horvath snorted. "Don't expect me to forget what your little apprentice did last night any time soon, either."

Balthazar sighed. "It's over, Horvath. Morgana's gone."

"You think that's the end of it?" Horvath sneered. "It was never about Morgana, old boy. But you? I'm not done with you yet!"

Balthazar sighed, finally looking over at his one-time friend. "It was Veronica's choice, not mine. I was not aware of your feelings for her until after she had accepted my offer of courtship- neither you nor Veronica saw fit to mention any of this to me," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps, if you had, this might have turned out differently." He leaned his head back against the bars, closing his eyes.

Horvath watched him, painfully aware of the fact that he couldn't actually do anything to him here. "What would you have done, if Veronica had picked someone else over you? Would you have just stepped back and let her go?" he murmured softly. Balthazar didn't respond, but Horvath knew his answer. His eyes narrowed. "Of course you would. You're the great Balthazar Blake. Righteous, self-sacrificing bastard that you are." As if he needed another reason to hate the man.

From his corner, Balthazar sighed. _Today started out with such promise, too, _ he mused, letting his thoughts wander back to that morning.

** . . . **

Balthazar couldn't help the smile that graced his features as he heard Dave invite Becky to breakfast in France. Part of him was truly happy that the relationship, despite its rocky start, seemed to be working out for Dave. The other part knew the boy would never make it to France on a metal bird and was looking forward to the inevitable story of that misadventure later. As the giant eagle leapt back into the air, the old sorcerer saw a very familiar hat hanging on part of the broken fence that surrounded the park. Veronica helped him walk out to the street, but Horvath was nowhere to be found.

Balthazar picked up the hat, quickly replaying the fight in his mind. Horvath's cane had flown out of his hand and landed somewhere in the park. Given Horvath's weakened state after Dave's attack, not to mention the battle between Dave and Morgana, it was unlikely Horvath had dared to attempt retrieving it.

Balthazar concentrated, moving his hand slightly to summon the ring to him as he had done shortly after escaping the urn and finding Dave again. Although it was a simple spell, something felt off. He waited a few seconds, but the cane did not come hurdling at him through the air. Cautiously, he raised his hand, watching the ring as he cast the spell again. His blood ran cold as his ring remained dark.

"Veronica," he said, wrenching his gaze from the ring to his beloved's face. "Horvath had Dave's dragon ring on his cane. It was thrown somewhere in the park. I need you to find it," he explained.

Veronica nodded, helping him over to a bench to rest before searching for the cane.

Balthazar stared at his ring, trying again and again to access his magic and continually being denied. It was like he wasn't even wearing a ring at all. Eventually, his burning chest got his attention and he unbuttoned his vest and shirt. The skin above his heart was bright red, clearly visible even in the poor lighting in the park. He recognized the burns as those caused by plasma bolts and could count at least five different marks, all over-lapping. The harsh words of warning he had given Dave after the mop fiasco came back to him. _"Being electrocuted is exactly how a sorcerer loses his powers."_

Balthazar felt numb. He knew the dangers of being electrocuted. He also knew that a plasma bolt wasn't strong enough to do it on it's own. He stared unseeingly at Horvath's hat in his hands, thinking back to when he had woken up after Morgana's defeat. Dave was sitting over him, dejected and looking like he was almost desperately trying not to cry. Veronica wasn't even attempting to do so, the tracks of tears already staining her cheeks. He hadn't had time to consider it before, but now... It would seem that he had died. Or, at the very least, his heart had stopped beating. And, Dave had resuscitated him. Using plasma bolts as a makeshift defibrillator. He closed his eyes, thinking back. He had taken one hit from Horvath, his power exponentially increased by three extra talismans. He had been hit with two plasma bolts by Morgana herself, followed by at least five more in relatively quick succession from Dave. Was that enough to strip him of his power? It certainly seemed that way.

Veronica returned to his side, cane in hand. The two rings and necklace still rested just below the handle. He forcefully tore himself from his thoughts, meeting her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to fix the fountain and the gate. I'm too exhausted to do it just now," he said. He desperately hoped that it was just exhaustion.

She nodded again, hurrying off to do as he requested. Balthazar levered himself up off the bench, staggering as his entire body protested the movement and began limping towards his car. Veronica soon joined him, taking his arm and helping him along. The car had been left running. Balthazar didn't know whether to praise Dave (as he couldn't start the car in his present magic-less state) or to curse the boy for his inattention (this was New York, after all).

He climbed into the driver's seat, staring at the bowler's hat still held in his hand for a few seconds before setting it on the center consol. Veronica mirrored his movements, climbing in the passenger's side wearily. It had been a tiring night all around. Putting the car in gear, Balthazar headed back to the hotel room he'd rented after escaping the urn, not having had time to look into more permanent housing while focusing on training Dave. Although it was still dark out (at least as dark as it ever got in New York), Balthazar knew it had to be in the early hours of the morning by the time he pulled into the parking lot. Veronica was staring at everything around her in fascination, the wonders of this time keeping her weariness at bay, although she curbed most of her questions due to his obvious fatigue.

The desk clerk didn't even glance up as they entered the lobby and Balthazar suddenly found himself wishing he'd splurged a little more on his temporary lodgings. While he'd stayed in much worse places over the long years it'd taken to complete his quest, he didn't particularly want Veronica's first day out of the Grimhold spent in a room with paint peeling off the walls and a leaking faucet in the bathroom.

Too worn out to go and search for a hotel with a better reputation, Balthazar wearily mounted the stairs to the second floor, fumbling for his keys (while breathing a sigh of relief that he'd actually brought them) and unlocking the door. He gave Veronica a quick tour of the apartment, giving a brief overview of some of the various technological advancements (such as running water and how the toilet was meant to be used).

"Sorry about the general state of the place," he apologized, easing himself down on the loveseat. "Last night wasn't exactly planned, as you may have guessed."

Veronica sat down beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It is fine, Balthazar," she assured him. "Morgana has been destroyed and I am with you once more. Whether it be in the grandest castle ever built or the deepest pit of the dungeon, it does not matter. With you here beside me, I am content."

Balthazar smiled, putting his arm around her and pulling her close as he kissed her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I missed you so much," he whispered.

Veronica leaned into the embrace, twining her fingers with his other hand. "I know. I did as well."

They sat there is silence for several moments, just basking in the other's presence. Balthazar shifted slightly, one of the broken springs in the back of the couch poking him. "You can sleep on the bed," he offered, painfully aware of the archaic etiquette and customs that Veronica was used to. "I'll take the couch. I know that we shouldn't be sleeping in the same room, but given the circumstances..."

Veronica laughed. "Given the circumstances, I think it is perfectly acceptable for us to bend the rules," she said.

Balthazar smiled, leaning his head back against the cushions. "The bed is more comfortable," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"Then I shall move to it," she replied quietly, scooting down so she could lay her head on his chest, "when it is greater comfort I seek."

Balthazar chuckled softly, absently running his fingers through her hair as he drifted off to sleep.

** . . . **

A pounding on the door abruptly woke Balthazar. Feeling as though he'd just closed his eyes, he bit back a curse as he pushed himself off the couch. Veronica blinked at him sleepily, her gaze going to the door as whoever was outside knocked again. Acerbic words ready on the tip of his tongue, Balthazar yanked the door open. The biting comments were quickly swallowed as the pair of men in suits flashed their badges.

"I'm Detective Jones, this is Detective McNeil," the one standing closer to the doorway introduced them. "Are you Balthazar Blake?"

Balthazar's mind immediately went through the list of incidents he'd been involved in since escaping the urn. First, there was the incident in China Town- everyone was more focused on the dragon than anything else and he hadn't mentioned his name to anyone there. He mentally crossed it off the list. Next was the car chase with Horvath- unlikely they'd be able to trace it back to him as the car had changed a couple times throughout the chase and he'd reclaimed it afterwards, changing it back to its original form. That one was scratched off, too. Next, he and Dave had broken into Horvath's current Morganian underling's penthouse. In retrospect, Balthazar realized he had neglected to take any precautions against the surveillance cameras in the main lobby and elevator. Although he had shorted out all the high-end electrical equipment in the penthouse to keep any magic from being caught on tape, at the time he'd been more focused on getting the Grimhold back than entering quietly. Last, there was the incident in Battery Park last night. Veronica had fixed the damaged property, but the statue of the bull was still missing when they had left, carried off to who-knows-where by the eagle. He didn't think they could trace that one back to him, so it was likely they were here to charge him with breaking and entering. He did find it strange that the young Morganian would actually try pressing charges, especially when nothing of his was taken.

All of that ran through Balthazar's mind in a matter of seconds and he inclined his head slightly. "Yes, that's me. What can I do for you?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"We'd like you to come down to the station with us, there's some questions we need to ask you about Drake Stone," Detective Jones said, watching Balthazar carefully for his reaction.

The name didn't ring a bell. "Who?" Balthazar asked, realizing he'd never learned the name of Horvath's current minion.

"Drake Stone, he's a famous magician," Detective McNeil offered.

_A famous magician? I guess I shouldn't be surprised a Morganian would use the sacred art as a means to get rich, _ Balthazar thought, managing to keep the scowl off his face and putting on a pensive expression instead. "Does he have blonde hair that stands up? Likes heeled boots, paints his nails and wears a half glove-thing on one hand?" he asked.

"Yes, that's him."

"Well, we've never been formally introduced..."

"Balthazar?" Veronica asked, coming up behind him. She briefly studied the two men at the door over his shoulder before turning her questioning gaze back to him.

"Veronica." He turned to her, switching to Old Welsh. **"I have to go with these men right now, but don't worry, I'll be fine. I should be back later," **he said. His gaze slid briefly to the detectives before he continued. **"If I can't make it back today, I'll call."**

Veronica looked confused. **"If you cannot make it back, how would you be close enough to call?" **she asked, following his example and speaking in the archaic language.

Balthazar blinked before realizing his mistake. He quickly gave her a brief explanation of the telephone. **"So, basically, if it makes noise, hold the receiver up to your ear and you'll be able to hear me," **he finished.

**"Why must you leave?"**

**"There's been a misunderstanding," **Balthazar hedged. **"I have to go with them to get it cleared up."**

**"And a little magic cannot solve the problem?"**

Balthazar would have laughed had the casual remark not hit quite so close to home. A little magic would solve the problem and any other time he wouldn't have hesitated to do so. However, his ring was still cold upon his finger and Veronica's heavy-handed approach to problems lacked the finesse necessary for most mind-altering magic. She could wipe a man's mind clean, leaving little more than a wild beast in his place. But, she had never practiced altering one memory while leaving the others intact and the results could be disastrous if one did not know exactly what they were doing. The detectives had done nothing to deserve that cruel fate. **"They're not evil Morganians, beloved. Just ordinary people with ordinary jobs," **he explained.

**"They are taking you away from me not even a full day after we have finally been reunited. That makes them dangerously close to evil as far as I'm concerned," **she stated, the corner of her lips turned up ever so slightly.

They had been apart for so long that Balthazar honestly couldn't tell if she were joking or not.

"Mr. Blake," Detective Jones prompted, looking a little impatient.

**"Wait here for me. I promise I will see you later," **Balthazar said, gently cupping Veronica's cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning into the caress until he pulled away. He turned back to the detectives, switching back to English. "After you."

Veronica watched as Balthazar was escorted down the hall and out of sight. Turning back into the apartment, she closed the door and leaned against it, wrapping her arms around herself. Even though she knew Balthazar wouldn't break his promise, she couldn't help feeling utterly alone in this strange, new world.

** . . . **

A short time later, Balthazar found himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair in an interrogation room, staring at the one-way mirror. His hair was a wild and unkempt mess, not having been brushed since the previous morning, and his face was still sporting several days' growth, as he hadn't had time to shave before being brought down to the station. His haggard appearance in addition to his usual dress shirt and vest, leather trench coat, fingerless gloves and admittedly gaudy rings certainly made him the very picture of a stereotypical vagrant. All he was missing, really, was the smell.

Some time later, Detectives Jones and McNeil entered the room, the former leaning against the wall while the latter took the seat opposite Balthazar. McNeil placed a tan folder on the table, resting his clasped hands on top of it.

"I assume you know why you're here, Mr. Blake?" McNeil asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I might have some idea," Balthazar answered.

"Then, would you mind telling me what you were doing between the hours of 9:00 and 11:00 pm last night?" McNeil asked.

"Not at all."

There was a pregnant pause. "So, what were you doing during the hours of 9:00 and 11:00 pm last night, Mr. Blake?"

Balthazar shrugged. "I haven't any idea."

The two detectives exchanged a look. "Are you claiming you don't remember the events of last night?" McNeil asked.

"No, my memory's just fine." Balthazar leaned back in his chair, wincing slightly when he moved his stiff muscles. "It's been quite a long while since I had any reason to keep track of the time. So, I don't." He arched an eyebrow at the younger detective sitting across from him. "I would imagine you would know the times better than I. The footage from security cameras _are _time-stamped, aren't they?"

Jones rolled his eyes, muttering something derogatory under his breath. McNeil managed to keep his reaction much more subdued, merely shaking his head. "Why don't you just walk me through what you did last night," he suggested.

Knowing that antagonizing the police force without his magic would do more harm than good, he decided to relay a rather diluted version of events. "Since I'm assuming you're wondering at my presence in, hm, Mr. Stone, was it? Mr. Stone's apartment, I'll start there." He folded his arms across his chest, his gaze wandering to the ceiling. "I arrived at the apartment building after dark. Went inside, got in the elevator-"

"How did you get into the elevator? I understand a special keycard is required to access Mr. Drake's floor," McNeil interrupted.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow at the interruption. "I asked nicely," he stated blandly.

Jones snorted. McNeil matched Balthazar's raised eyebrow. "You asked nicely? And it, what, just opened for you?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh." McNeil shared a brief look with Jones before nodding to Balthazar. "Please, continue."

"I took the elevator to Mr. Stone's apartment. The door was open, so I let myself in." He shrugged. "What I was looking for had already been moved somewhere else, so I left."

"What were you looking for?"

"Something precious to me that had been taken the day before. It's...something of an heirloom, you might say."

"Why did you think Mr. Stone might have it in his possession?"

"I didn't think that Mr. Stone would have it, exactly. More like an..._associate _of Mr. Stone, who was staying with him at the time," Balthazar said.

"I assume this heirloom is of great value."

"Only to certain people."

"But, it was gone by the time you got there."

"Correct."

"Is that why you destroyed the statue Stone had of himself?" Jones asked, studying the sorcerer intently.

Balthazar almost rolled his eyes. "I'm not so crass as to take out my frustration on meaningless targets."

"What about the girl who stole it? Was she a _worthy _target, then?" Jones pressed, moving forward to lean on the table, allowing him to loom over Balthazar.

Balthazar's eyes narrowed. "What girl?" he asked, unconsciously lowering his voice. The only girl he had seen was Becky and there was no reason why they should think he had hurt her.

"Why don't you tell us?" Jones said as McNeil pulled a few pictures from the folder, setting them in front of Balthazar.

A young teenage girl had been unceremoniously stuffed in a closet, her style of clothing something that might be worn by the Amish in this day and age. Balthazar recognized Abigail Williams immediately, but managed to keep his face blank as he studied the picture. Unhealthy pallor aside, there didn't seem to be a mark on her body, although the pose made it a bit difficult to tell that for sure. To the untrained eye, she could have merely been sleeping. However, Balthazar knew that death by magic didn't always leave a mark. "I never saw her last night. Who is she?" he asked, knowing they didn't have the answer. After all, she'd been locked away in the Grimhold for the past three hundred years.

"An associate of Mr. Stone's, I presume," McNeil said.

"And, possibly this 'thief' you mentioned?" Jones added.

"No, he's a good deal older than that."

"Really? And what might this 'mystery man' look like?"

"A bit shorter than I am, more of a heavy-set build, usually wears a bowlers hat and a fur-lined coat, carries a cane with him everywhere but never uses it to help him walk. Dark hair, dark eyes, circle beard." Balthazar shrugged, pretending to not notice the look both detectives shot the mirror. Apparently, Horvath had been caught on the security videos as well.

"Do you have a name?" McNeil asked.

"Maxim Horvath, although he also uses various aliases from time to time."

"Do you know what those might be?"

"I never saw the need to find out."

"What about this partner of yours, hm?" Jones asked, taking the folder and pulling out a picture from the security tapes of Balthazar and Dave entering the elevator. "Who's this kid with you?"

"My friend."

"And, does this _friend _often come with you when you break into people's apartments?" Jones asked, heavy sarcasm coloring his voice.

"There was no 'breaking' involved. The door was open and we entered," Balthazar stated. 'Open' in this case meaning quietly taken off its hinges by magic and moved to the side. "Horvath was expecting us." That wasn't even a lie. Horvath had quite successfully lured them into his trap, allowing him to make off with not only the Grimhold, but Dave's ring as well.

"First, you claim to not know who Drake Stone is, now you're saying that this 'associate' of his was meeting with you, in Mr. Stone's own apartment?" Jones asked a little skeptically. "To discuss the theft of your property, no less?"

"If you don't like the answers, maybe you should stop asking the questions," Balthazar said lazily.

"Why didn't you come to the police about this?" McNeil interrupted.

"It was a minor civil dispute," Balthazar shrugged. "I thought a couple of mature adults could work this out on their own, without the headache and lawsuits that would inevitably come from involving the police."

"But, that didn't turn out to be the case," McNeil prompted.

"Actually, the issue was successfully worked out late last night. Just not in the apartment."

"What role did your young friend play in all of this?" McNeil asked, pointing to the picture of Dave entering the elevator.

"He didn't have a role. He was merely there at my request, nothing more."

"I don't suppose you'd give us your friend's name?"

"I don't suppose I would."

"You know it's just a matter of time before we find him," Jones cut in.

Balthazar raised one sardonic eyebrow. "I doubt that. The last I heard, he was flying to France." The sorcerer was very careful not to smile, knowing that they would waste a lot of time scouring the airports looking for Dave. Unfortunately for them, giant steel eagles that had been animated by magic weren't required to register with the FAA.

"You really should cooperate while you still have the chance. ME put her time of death as somewhere between 9:00 and 11:00 pm last night. Security tapes show you and your boy entering the apartment at exactly 10:13, meaning you either killed her, or walked in on whoever did, which makes you an accessory to murder," Jones said, pointing to Abigail. "Also, it seems she was killed in the same manner as Mr. Stone," he continued, pulling out a few more pictures and lining them up on the table in front of Balthazar.

The Morganian had been dumped on the floor of what appeared to be the master bedroom. What caught Balthazar's attention, however, was the burn on the right side of his neck, just below the ear. "They're both dead, then?" he asked, trying to see the mark without looking too interested in the picture. "What was the cause of death?"

"We won't get the full autopsy report for another day or so," McNeil explained. "But they are both missing a lot of blood and the only mark on either of their bodies is this burn." He laid out two more pictures, each one a close-up of the peculiar burn on Drake's and Abigail's necks.

"The ME thinks someone may have drugged the victims, drained the blood through the carotid artery then used the burn to cover it up," Jones said, leaning back as he folded his arms. "What do you think?"

Balthazar recognized the mark, a small hexagon with a smaller straight line extending outward from each point. But, from the angle the picture was taken, it looked like something else he hadn't noticed before. "Is that supposed to be a sun?" he asked.

"You tell me," Jones replied. "Both victims were killed by the same method, hours apart. Stone was already dead by the time you got there, which means you either snuck in somehow and killed him earlier, or you're working with whoever did."

Balthazar was starting to get fed up. He thought he'd controlled his temper rather well, all things considered, but enough was enough. He recognized the symptoms of the parasite spell, knew those burns were caused by the faceted jewel atop Horvath's cane and recalled the three extra talismans adorning said cane when they had fought last night. One was Dave's dragon ring; the pendant he should have recognized as belonging to Abigail Williams and the third was obviously Drake Stone's ring. Horvath had killed the second two and now Balthazar was being blamed for it. As much as that rankled, this wasn't the first time Horvath had managed to drag Balthazar into one of his messes. "As I said, I know nothing about their deaths," he stated slowly, his voice taking on a bit of an edge as he clearly enunciated each word. "I can't help you."

"You have to understand, it looks a bit suspicious from our side," McNeil said, his tone placating. "Why don't you walk us through what happened again, starting from when you arrived at the hotel?"

"No, we're done here," Balthazar said, shaking his head. "I'm familiar with my rights. Either arrest me or let me go." He settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and closed his eyes.

Jones and McNeil exchanged a look before leaving the room. Balthazar remained where he was, his calm mask hiding the flurry of thoughts running through his mind. In retrospect, he really should have seen this coming. He saw the three additional talismans adorning Horvath's cane and vaguely noted the absence of Horvath's current lackey. Past experience showed that Horvath never kept any of his 'assistants' long, and they generally ended up dead one way or another. Balthazar would have almost believed Horvath set him up on purpose had the trap not been one easily solved with a bit of magic.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, the detectives returned. Balthazar was not surprised in the slightest when Jones informed him he was under arrest.

** . . . **

The booking process was not a short one. Despite the apparent ease of each individual step, it took several hours for Balthazar to be fingerprinted, photographed, searched and stripped of all personal belongings (giving up his sorcerer's ring bothered him more than he cared to admit, despite the fact that he couldn't actually use the magic), before he was finally given access to a phone. It didn't take him long to look up the hotel's number and even less time for Veronica to answer.

"Balthazar?" she asked, her voice faint but sounding very worried.

**"Turn the receiver around, you'll be able to hear better," **he instructed, slipping into Old Welsh just in case.

There was the sound of movement on the other end of the line. **"Balthazar? Are you there?" **Veronica asked, her voice sounding a little more frantic now that he could hear her clearly.

**"Yes, I'm here. And don't worry, I'm fine," **he stressed, trying to ally some of her fears.

He could practically feel her tense up at the unspoken 'but' that was coming. **"What is it? What is wrong?" **she asked.

**"Well, things are a bit more complicated than I had anticipated," **he explained. **"It'll all be worked out, but I'll have to stay here for a couple days until then." **He paused, giving her the chance to respond. When she didn't he pressed on. **"I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to go to Dave's lab."**

**"All right," **she answered, sounding more than a little nervous.

**"First let me give you the address. You'll want to write this down."**

**"Where do you keep your ink pot and quill? I have not seen one anywhere in here."**

Balthazar smiled, shaking his head. **"Times have changed. There should be a skinny white 'stick' with black writing on it next to the phone. That's called a pen. The ink is stored inside it and is dispensed when the tip is moved across paper. There should be some paper that you can write on underneath it," **he explained.

**"All right. What do you wish me to write?"**

**"The address is 225 Washington Place."**

**"225 washing-ton place," **she repeated back to him, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. **"I'm afraid I do not know how to operate your carriage. Shall I walk? And, how am I to find this place? Is there someone who can direct me there?" **

Balthazar gave her a brief run-down of how the taxi system worked, instructing her to have the clerk at the front desk call her a cab and to use the money in the nightstand to pay for it. **"Take Horvath's cane with you; I don't want to leave that lying around. I don't know if Dave's back yet. I don't have a way to contact him. He should return to the lab sometime, so wait for him there. Explain what's happened, but let him know that I've got things under control. Oh, and tell him he should probably lay low for a while; they're looking for him, too."**

The door opened behind Balthazar and an officer stuck his head in. "Time's up."

**"I have to go now. I probably won't be able to call again, but I'll see you in a few days," **Balthazar said. **"I love you."**

**"I love you, too."**

Balthazar started to pull the phone away from his ear, before realizing he had neglected to mention something very important. **"Wait, Veronica, there's one more thing. If you have to use your magic, make sure no one sees you."**

**"Why?" **Understandably, she sounded confused.

**"Magic hasn't officially been around for a few centuries, now. Various religions denounced it and fanatics led extensive witch-hunts in countries all over the world. It...was bad. Believe me when I say, we don't want that to happen again."**

"Now, Mr. Blake."

**"All right. If I need to use magic, I shall keep it subtle," **she acquiesced.

**"Be safe."**

**"You as well."**

Under the officer's irritated gaze, Balthazar almost reverently replaced the phone on it's hook, the metal handcuffs clinking softly as he moved his wrists. Obediently, he stood and followed the officer back to his cell.

** . . . **

It was late by the time Dave finally made it back to the lab. His impromptu date with Becky had ended in disaster, although she had assured him that she wouldn't hold it against him. Dave almost groaned when he tried the door and found it to be unlocked. The only time that happened was when Balthazar was already there, waiting for him. He was sure the old sorcerer would somehow _know _ about the almost-skirmish between the Coast Guard and the eagle, just like every other time Dave made a mistake. He'd listen with that smug _look _ on his face, his eyes positively dancing as Dave was forced to relive the embarrassment of a bad choice. And, of course, he'd never let Dave live it down, either. Taking a deep breath to steel himself against the ordeal ahead, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The soft sound of footsteps could be heard from below, his master undoubtedly pacing restlessly as he waited for his errant apprentice. _After a thousand years apart, you'd think he'd be more interested in hanging out with Veronica than tormenting me_, Dave lamented, heading down the metal staircase. "Look, Balthazar, I'm sorry- I know you said before the eagle was too high profile, but that was downtown and I thought the ocean would be fine, and-" He finally looked up, expecting to meet his master's laughing blue eyes, mocking him silently. He was not prepared to come face to face with Veronica's somber chocolate gaze. "...and, you're not Balthazar," he finished lamely.

"You are Dave," she stated, studying him. "We were never properly introduced last night."

"Yeeeah, I guess I, uh, took off kinda suddenly," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

She shook her head slightly, waving off his apology.

"So, uh," Dave's gaze wandered about the room, noting the suspicious absence of his master. "I...thought you'd be with Balthazar, you know, after the whole 'freed from long imprisonment' thing," he said, gesturing with his hands as he was want to do when nervous. "Where is he, anyway?"

Veronica shook her head. "I do not know."

That made Dave pause. "Wait, what do you mean, you don't know? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have just up and left in the middle of the night. I mean, did he say were he was going? Out to get something eat, maybe, or to go track down Horvath or, or something?" he asked.

Veronica resumed her pacing, twisting the ring around her finger as she walked. "Two men came earlier today and took him away. Later, he called on the 'phone' and instructed me to come here and find you." She stopped suddenly, turning to Dave imploringly. "What is going on? Balthazar assured me that he was all right, but is it normal for people to come and take others captive for days at a time?" She started pacing again, her agitation showing in the quick steps and sharp turns as she moved from one side of the lab to the other and back again. "Where I'm from, detaining people in such a manner for days meant that they would be held in the lord's dungeons and tortured until they confessed to whatever sin they had been accused of. Is that what's happening now?"

"Veronica-" Dave started.

"He cautioned me against openly using magic," she continued, gesturing with her hands as if to punctuate the words. "Mentioned witch-hunts that had taken place all over the world. He was careful not to give any specifics, but from the sound of his voice, I know it had to be terrible! What if he was caught?"

"Veronica," Dave tried again.

She didn't seem to hear him, the words pouring out of her as she began to give way to panic. "He did not say why he was taken. Surely, he was simply trying to keep me from worrying, or to keep me safe. Was that it? If they had known about _my _ powers, would they have apprehended me as well?" She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I can't help but think of what horrors they may be inflicting upon him _right now_, while I stand here, helpless-"

Dave quickly closed the distance between them, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Veronica!" he said a bit louder than necessary, giving her a little shake to snap her out of it. She jerked in surprise, looking up to meet his eyes. Dave lowered his voice, keeping his tone even and his words measured. "You need to calm down. If Balthazar said he's fine, then I'm sure he is. There haven't been any witch-hunts here in a couple hundred years. Balthazar knows how to take care of himself," he said, trying to calm her down. He really didn't want to deal with a hysterical sorceress.

Veronica stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Once she had regained a bit of her composure, she shook her head, smiling a bit ruefully. "I must apologize to you, Dave. I have had nothing but my own thoughts for company all day. My nerves seem to be a bit delicate at the moment."

"I guess that's understandable," Dave said. He quickly released her arms and stepped back, seeming a bit embarrassed at the intrusion of her personal space. "So, Balthazar was taken by two men. Could you tell me what they were wearing?"

Veronica shook her head again. "They were dressed in strange garb, but much of this place is strange to me." She closed her eyes, pulling up a mental picture in her mind. "They wore dark-colored coats and matching trousers. Under their coats, was a white tunic secured by a strip of black cloth tied around their necks." She paused, turning to Dave. "Is that a sign of ownership these days?"

"Uh, no," he said, not quite sure what to make of her description. "It's illegal to own another human being."

"Oh, good. Such a horrible practice, really," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Did they say anything? Where they were taking him, or why, perhaps?" Dave prompted.

"They mentioned something about a station. And questions he needed to answer about a...dragon stone, I think, but it seemed they were referring to a person." She shook her head helplessly. "I could not make much sense of it, there is just so much about this place that I do not know."

"Well, the only 'dragon stone' I can think of would be my ring, and I doubt Balthazar would have gone quietly if that was the case. But, taking him down to the station..." He turned the idea over in his mind, all the pieces seeming to fit. "Did they identify themselves? You know, like, officer, or detective?" he asked.

Veronica considered for a moment. "Yes," she said, slowly. "Yes, I do believe I heard the word 'detective' this morning."

"Great! Okay, so we know he was taken by the police," Dave said. "Now, the question is, why would the police be interested in Balthazar?"

"What is 'the police'?" Veronica asked.

"Uh, local law enforcement. You know, they make sure everyone obeys the laws and punish those who don't."

"Like the knights?"

"Uh, yeah. Kinda...I guess," Dave answered, a bit distractedly. "Only, without all the torture and stuff. Cruel and unusual punishments are against the law these days."

"That is some comfort, at least. But, what reason would Balthazar have to break the law?" she asked.

"Funny you should ask..." Dave muttered, going over the series of crazy events that his life had turned into.

Veronica looked at him a bit strangely. "Balthazar did mention that they were looking for you as well, Dave. He said you should 'lay low' for a while."

That narrowed the list a bit and it wasn't long before he reached the same conclusion as his master. "I, uh, think that he's probably being charged with breaking and entering. We, uh, tracked the Grimhold to this guy's apartment last night and, uh, kind of broke in trying to get it back."

"Can't Balthazar simply explain that-" Veronica stopped abruptly as the dilemma became clear. "No. Magic is not supposed to exist any longer. There is no way for him to explain his actions." She took a deep breath, lowering her eyes to the floor. "What is the punishment for stealing in this time? Is there a possibility he can be released with only a fine and a few days in the stocks? Or, will they cut off his hands?" she asked, only a slight tremor in her voice.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa! _ Stocks? _Cutting off his hands? _ No, no, he-he might get a _fine_, maybe, or-or community service or jail time, I don't actually know, but they're not going to _cut off his hands!" _Dave's history classes in school had covered some of the more extreme punishments used in medieval times, but hearing Veronica ask about them as if it was a foregone conclusion suddenly made it seem that much more real, somehow. She came from a time when this was commonplace and not just another horror story told by the teacher.

Veronica visibly relaxed at Dave's immediate and adamant denial. "So, the local lord is against such punishments, then? Or, is it by Royal Decree?"

"It's, um, oh man." Dave ran his hand through his hair. He didn't even know how to begin explaining the concept of a democracy to the newly-freed sorceress. "Listen, it's complicated," he said instead, deciding to leave that mess for Balthazar. "If he was arrested, then he'll have an arraignment hearing soon and we can post bail...somehow." Dave realized he didn't even know if the man actually _had _ any money. He had been, after all, sealed inside an urn for the last ten years. "I need to talk to Balthazar," he muttered, taking up pacing in Veronica's stead.

"How?" she asked, following him with her eyes. "Balthazar said he would be unable to 'call' again and you cannot go to him, as they are looking for you as well. And, I do not know nearly enough about this time to even hope to blend in."

"I know, I know, just...gimme a sec, alright?" The college student racked his brain, trying to come up with some sort of plan. He stopped when his eyes fell on his Encantus lying on the table, a grin forming on his face. "Hey, Veronica? How are you at illusions?"

** . . . **

Balthazar sat on the floor, leaning back against the bars of the holding cell. The three benches in the cell were already occupied by the numerous other men he was currently sharing his quarters with and he didn't mind sleeping on the floor too much. He had slept in much worse places.

The sorcerer opened one lazy eye as the door to the cell across the hall clanged loudly open and a bored officer ordered a new prisoner in. Both eyes opened in mild surprise and he sat up a little straighter as a familiar form grudgingly entered the other cell. Balthazar almost laughed at the irony as the officer returned to his other duties. "I was wondering if you'd be able to escape, given the circumstances," he drawled, a small smirk sliding across his lips as the newcomer whirled, startled. "But, I have to admit, I didn't think they'd find you this quickly, Horvath."

"Balthazar!" Horvath exclaimed, his eyes widened in surprise. "What on earth are _you _doing here?"

"Just admiring the decor," Balthazar replied nonchalant, relaxing against the bars. "Such a simplistic design- I was considering re-modeling the guest room this way."

Horvath rolled his eyes, having recovered from the brief shock. "I never thought you'd lower yourself to being..._confined _in a place such as this. Unless..." He let the sentence trail off, his eyes darting down to Balthazar's right hand as possibilities ran through his mind. "You lost your ring," he stated, gleeful realization gracing his features.

Balthazar snorted derisively. "Yes, confiscation of all personal belongings is the price of admittance here. You may recall experiencing that on your way in."

Horvath waved his hand, dismissively. "It's easy enough to get around that," he said, eyes gleaming. "An illusion, persuasive suggestion, invisibility spell- there are no lengths to which a sorcerer won't go in order to prevent losing his ring," he stated, his grin reflecting pure malice. "The only way you would have lost yours is if you were _unable _to use magic to hide it."

Although Balthazar did his best to stifle his reaction, he felt his eye twitch.

"Ha, ha! Oh, this is rich! You, of all people, stripped of your magic!" Horvath practically crowed. "I don't suppose you'd tell me if it is only temporary or actually _permanent_, would you old boy?"

Balthazar shrugged, feigning disinterest. "I don't know," he answered, his voice neutral. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was just brought on by exhaustion."

Horvath smiled wider at his ex-friend's carefully portrayed attitude of indifference. Balthazar obviously knew more than he was telling, and it wasn't good. While Horvath hadn't stayed around for the battle between Morgana and the Prime Merlinian, he had gone back later and pieced together the outcome. Most sorcerer's avoided spells and whatnot requiring a large amount of electricity because a mistake could cost them their magic. Dave, however, was young and inexperienced. Horvath had seen the thick power cables running all across the park and laughed at the thought of Balthazar accidently touching one during the chaos of the battle. What would the young Prime Merlinian do when he discovered that _he _had inadvertently stripped Balthazar of his magic? Horvath couldn't wait to find out.

"That still doesn't really explain why you're here, though," Horvath mused, letting his plans for revenge simmer in the back of his mind for now. "Unless you are here merely to torment me. Gloating never really was your style; but then, the centuries have changed us both very much."

"Believe it or not, I _do _have better things to do with my time than exchange barbs with you. But, as with most difficult situations I've found myself in over the years, the root of this problem can be traced back to you."

"Oh?" Horvath raised an eyebrow. "Do tell how this little mishap is _my _fault."

"You never did learn to clean-up your messes," Balthazar stated, wincing slightly as he folded his arms across his chest. "And I always seem to get caught up in them somehow. If you weren't in here with me, I'd almost think you did it on purpose." He shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. "At least this time I'm not likely to end up running through the streets with an angry mob carrying torches and pitchforks chasing me."

Horvath smiled fondly at the memory. "Ah, yes. You were posing as an old woman, if memory serves. What was it they were calling you? Soucriant?"

"Soucouyant. And the legend spawned from that debacle was still being circulated around Haiti last time I was there."

"I was so close to getting the Grimhold from you then," Horvath reminisced, bitterly. "The final outcome would have been much different if I had. But, I was overconfident, I suppose. If only that idiot, Jaston, had done his job properly, then I could have finished you off back then."

"Or ended up sealed in the second layer."

Horvath scoffed, turning away from the sorcerer to survey the cell. It wasn't any less crowded than Balthazar's, the only remaining places to sit being on the floor. Lip curling in disgust, he mirrored Balthazar's position against the bars, although he opted to stand. "Always so confident that you'll come out on top," he sneered. "Can't admit that you might have made a mistake that night, can you? Just one more sacrifice for the 'greater good.' Is that what you tell yourself, to ease your guilty conscience?"

Balthazar sighed. It was promising to be a long night.

** . . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	2. Chapter 2

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 2**

It was early the following morning when Becky arrived at the old subway turnaround Dave used for his lab. She didn't bother knocking, opting to let herself in and hurry down the stairs. Dave was sitting next to one of the cluttered tables off to the side of the room, staring pensively at his sleeping dog. "Dave, what happened? You said it was urgent," she said, hurrying over to him.

He jerked at her voice, standing to greet her. "Becky, thank you so much for coming," he said, giving her a brief hug.

Becky looked a little surprised, but returned the embrace. "So, what's going on?" she asked again.

"Well..." Dave worked his jaw a couple times, as if trying to decide what to say. "Balthazar's been arrested," he blurted at last.

Becky looked surprised. "Your uncle?"

"He's...not really my uncle," Dave admitted, looking a little sheepish. "He's my master."

"Your master." Becky's tone was somewhere between incredulous and skeptical.

"Yeah, he's been teaching me magic. You know, master and apprentice," he explained.

"Oh. So, what was he arrested for?" she asked.

"You know how Horvath kidnapped you and took you to that guy's apartment? Well, Balthazar and I kinda broke in there and..." Dave shrugged.

"Are they looking for you, too?" Becky asked, alarmed.

"Yeah."

Becky nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Well, actually I wanted to know if you could stay with Veronica while I go down and talk to Balthazar," Dave said.

Becky just stared at him. "You just said they're looking for you and you're going to _go down there _and talk to Balthazar? Are you _trying _to get arrested?" she asked incredulously. "Whose bright idea was _that?" _She paused as the rest of what he said sunk in. "Who's Veronica?"

Dave looked a little stung. "It was my idea," he mumbled.

"I am Veronica."

Becky looked toward the voice, seeing a woman she hadn't noticed earlier seated on the other side of the lab. She had long dark hair and was wearing a floor-length lavender gown that looked like it had been made for the Renaissance Faire. She was also reading an old (one might almost say ancient) looking book that was larger than any book had a right to be.

"Veronica, meet my girlfriend, Becky," Dave introduced. "Becky, meet Balthazar's girlfriend, Veronica. She's kinda new to the twenty-first century."

Veronica had put down the Encantus once she had been included in the conversation, moving across the large room with graceful steps. "Rebecca Barnes, correct? The young lady Dave flew off with night before last?" she asked. Becky nodded numbly while Dave rubbed his neck, a bit embarrassed. "Balthazar mentioned you. It is a pleasure to meet you," Veronica continued, inclining her head politely.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Becky managed to reply before turning back to Dave. "What do you mean by 'new to the twenty-first century,' exactly?" she asked.

"I guess there's still a lot that I haven't told you," Dave sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Twenty-first century?" Veronica repeated, looking shocked. "It is now the _twenty-first _century?"

"Uh, yeah," Dave answered, sounding a little unsure. "About a decade in, actually."

Veronica took a few seconds to process that before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Please forgive me. Time must pass differently inside the Grimhold. I assumed decades had passed, perhaps a century or two, but this..." She shook her head, turning her attention back to Becky. "I was trapped with Morgana in a magical prison called the Grimhold," the sorceress explained. "Horvath released us both the night before last."

"Okay," Becky said slowly. She blinked as the name registered in her mind. "Wait, Morgana? As in, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table? _That _Morgana?"

"Yeeeah," Dave said, looking more than a little nervous.

"So she's from..."

"Uh-huh."

"Wow." Becky shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around it all. "Wait, you said she's Balthazar's girlfriend. Is he also...?"

"Yep." Dave nodded. "Do you wanna sit down?" he asked, offering her his chair.

Becky shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine, it's just..." She laughed, suddenly. "Isn't any weirder than you being able to do magic, right?"

"Uh, I think it's just a little weirder, yeah," Dave said, still watching her closely.

"Yeah." Becky took a deep breath. "I'll admit, I wasn't really expecting any surprises this morning. I guess I should have known better." She turned to the older woman. "I'm sorry Veronica. I'm kind of new to magic."

Veronica smiled. "That is quite all right. Thank you for coming over so early- I told Dave I would be fine by myself until he returned, but he insisted on asking you to stay with me."

"Don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," Becky assured her.

"Alright then, I let you two ladies get acquainted while I head down to the station," Dave said. "Veronica?"

Veronica nodded, moving to retrieve an old magazine. She carefully studied the page it was open to before turning back to Dave, her ring glowing brightly. Becky whistled. "That's...wow."

"Hopefully, I'll be back soon with Balthazar. Wish me luck," Dave said, heading up the stairs.

"Good luck," both women called as he disappeared through the door.

"So, how do you like New York?" Becky asked, following Veronica to a couple chairs next to a relatively cleared table.

"It's a little frightening, actually," Veronica admitted. "The buildings seem to touch the sky itself and there are so many people, so many carriages...so much noise." She seated herself gracefully on one chair, motioning Becky to take the other. "I'd say it was a little past vespers when I left Balthazar's residence and not quite compline by the time I made it here. And still, I did not see the city's edge."

"I'm not sure what 'vespers' and 'compline' are, but it's a pretty big city," Becky agreed.

"They are times of the day," Veronica explained, cocking her head to the side. "You no longer use them?"

"No, we use watches to tell time these days," Becky said, showing Veronica her watch.

Veronica stared at the digital numbers, one of them constantly changing. "How very strange."

Becky laughed. "I imagine there will be a lot of things like that," she commented. "Speaking of which, did Balthazar take you shopping for some new clothes, yet?"

"No. We were awakened by the 'detectives' yesterday and he was taken shortly thereafter. He called later and gave me instructions on how to come here, saying I should wait for Dave," Veronica explained.

"Well, that simply won't do," Becky said, standing. "New York may have its fair share of weirdo-s, but the only time you see this style of clothing is when there's a convention in town."

"A what?" Veronica asked as Becky pulled her to her feet.

"It's a...well, never mind for now. The point is, we're going shopping!"

**. . . **

Balthazar was pulled out of the holding cell and informed that his lawyer was here. He was escorted to a small room holding only a table and two chairs. A young man, barely looking old enough to be out of law school, sat in one of the chairs. He had sandy-colored hair that was close cropped and was wearing a navy blue suit. He looked a bit uncomfortable, his gaze darting around the room every so often while he fiddled a bit nervously with his tie. He looked up as Balthazar approached, relief briefly covering his face before he cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in the chair. The officer shut the door behind Balthazar, waiting outside.

"So, you're supposed to be my legal counsel?" Balthazar asked blandly, sitting in the empty chair.

"Yes." The young man didn't sound too sure of his answer.

"I thought you were a physics nerd, not a law major," Balthazar stated, leaning back as he crossed his arms.

"What- How did-" the young man sputtered.

Balthazar smiled. "You're a horrible liar, Dave. I'm assuming you had Veronica cast the illusion for you?" he asked. Dave nodded. "Changing your physical appearance is good, but you have to flawlessly impersonate whoever you're trying to become. And I'm being generous when I say your acting skills need a lot of work. I'm actually surprised they let you in here at all." His gaze narrowed. "Although, I have to wonder, what part of 'laying low' includes walking right into the police station."

"Well, what did you expect me to do? I got home late last night only to find Veronica practically freaking out because you got arrested!"

Balthazar looked a bit dubious. "I told her I was fine and this mess would be cleared up in a few days. And, I sent her to you so she would have someone to help her until I got out. She's too level-headed to start panicking over being away from me for a few days."

"She thought you were being tortured in some dungeon for being a witch."

Balthazar blinked a couple times, blanching when he realized he had forgotten how drastically different the justice system was 1300 years ago. He closed his eyes, sighing. "I see," he said at length. "I suppose I'll have to apologize after I get out of here."

"That'd probably be good," Dave agreed. "So, we've come up with a way for you to escape."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked, smiling slightly. "This should be good."

"Look I figured they've taken your ring, but we can figure out how to get it back later," Dave started, ignoring his master's remark. "Veronica explained to me about the rings. They're interchangeable, right? I mean, your ring will always work best for you, but you _can _use someone else's ring if you don't have yours."

"Yes."

Dave pulled out his dragon ring, setting it on the table near Balthazar. "Veronica gave this back to me. First, we'll get the cop outside the door in here- you refusing to go back to the cell or something -and I can put him to sleep. Don't worry, Veronica showed me the spell and I practiced on Tank last night. Anyway, after he's asleep, you disguise yourself like you did in China Town and we walk right out of here," Dave explained. "Simple, but effective."

Balthazar shook his head, smiling ruefully.

"What?" Dave asked, sounding a little plaintive. "It'll work!"

"I can't do it."

Dave looked skeptical. "Come on, you did it before! I was there, remember? You even disguised me, too!"

Balthazar picked up the ring, looking at it for a few seconds before moving both hands under the table and out of Dave's sight. His apprentice watched, a little puzzled, as he brought both fists back above the table, holding them several inches apart. "Where's the ring, Dave?" he asked.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You want me to guess which hand it's in?" he asked in irritated disbelief.

"No. I want you to feel the magical aura of the ring and tell me where it is," Balthazar explained. Seeing Dave's confusion, he continued. "Sorcerers can sense magic in enchanted items, such as the rings used to cast magic. The closer you are to the object, the easier it is to sense it."

"And, how do you sense it, exactly?" Dave asked.

"Think of it like a draft in a room. You already know what magic feels like. You just have to follow it to the source."

Sighing a little impatiently, but knowing Balthazar would not relent until he had done it, Dave closed his eyes, tentatively reaching his hands across the table. He focused, thinking of what magic felt like when he was casting and trying to see if he could feel it now. Several long seconds passed before something familiar registered in his mind and he opened his eyes. "It's in your left hand," he said, pointing.

Balthazar opened the hand, revealing the ring. "Good. Now, that you know what you're looking for, let's try it again," he said, his hands disappearing briefly beneath the table before coming up once more.

Dave rolled his eyes again, but obediently held his hands out, trying to sense the magic. He found the aura almost immediately, but frowned when he realized it wasn't coming from either of his master's hands. "It's either on your lap or you dropped it on the floor," he said.

Balthazar smiled. "Very good. As I said, the closer you are to an item, the easier it is to sense it."

"What does this have to do with escaping?" Dave asked, a little impatiently.

Balthazar held the ring up, studying it. "Holding the ring in my hand, I can barely feel its aura at all."

Dave blinked. "What do you mean, you can barely feel it? It doesn't exactly have a weak, uh...signal...presence...whatever you want to call it. I can feel it just fine." He paused. "Is that 'cuz it's my ring? Can I sense it better than anyone else can?"

"No," Balthazar said, handing it back to Dave. "It's because I've lost my magic."

Dave froze, his hand half-way raised to take the ring. "What?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've lost my magic," Balthazar repeated quietly.

"How...is that possible?" Dave asked. "I thought you said a sorcerer loses his powers by being electrocuted."

"Electrocution is not the only way," Balthazar said, perhaps just a touch too quickly. He didn't want Dave to connect the dots and start blaming himself for this, especially if it turned out to be permanent. "Just the most common. It can also be caused by magical exhaustion or receiving a severe shock to your system, both of which happened to me two nights ago. First, I fought against Horvath, who had three extra talismans supplementing his power. Then, I preformed the fusion spell, which took a lot more out of me than I had anticipated. Afterwards was the fight against Morgana. Then, I actually _died_- my heart stopped beating and you had to resuscitate me." He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "That's a lot of stress to put on one body in less than an hours' time. Something had to give."

"So, that's...that's it? Your magic is just-just _gone? " _Dave asked, shocked.

"For now, at least, yes."

"For now?" Dave leaned forward earnestly. "Is there a way to get it back?"

"No, not so much a 'way to get it back' as a possibility that it might not be gone permanently."

"Care to run that by me again?" Dave asked, clearly confused.

"Sorcerer's rarely lose their magic- in all my years, I've come across less than a hundred cases. When electricity was involved, it was always permanent. However, in cases of extreme exhaustion or a severe shock to their system, whether physical or emotional, the loss of magic was generally only temporary," Balthazar explained. "Think of it like breaking your arm; you can't use the limb until after the bone has mended."

"So, you'll get your magic back?" Dave asked, still a bit anxious.

Balthazar shrugged. "Perhaps. It could still be permanent, but the odds are in my favor."

"How long until we know for sure?"

"It could be anywhere from the next five minutes to a few months down the road."

"So, what are we supposed to do until then?"

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "Life goes on, Dave. Billions of people across the world survive just fine without the use of magic."

"Well, yeah, but..." Dave couldn't quite put into words how wrong it felt for his master to suddenly be bereft of magic. "But, you're Balthazar! One of Merlin's own apprentices! You've been using magic for, like, ever! Doesn't this _bother _you?"

"Of course it does!" Balthazar snapped. "You think I _like _being defenseless, Dave? I've had a target on my back since the first lines between being Merlinian and Morganian were drawn!" The older sorcerer took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily as he regained his composure. Just because he was better at hiding it didn't mean the stress wasn't getting to him, too. "Trust me, Dave, I like it even less than you do. However, as there is absolutely _nothing _we can do about it at this point, we should turn our attention to more important matters."

Seeing the wisdom in his master's words, even if he didn't quite believe them (there had to be _something _they could do and he made a note to check the Encantus later), Dave shook himself and turned his attention back to the reason he was here. "Okay. So, we'll have to change the plan a little bit, but I think we can still make this work-"

Balthazar just shook his head. "Just don't worry about it, Dave," he said.

"Why not? _I _certainly don't have the money to make your bail, and I doubt you do either, and without your magic-"

"I'm not sure why you assume I have no financial assets," Balthazar interrupted dryly, "but it won't come to that. Currently, I've been arrested pending charges. That means they have seventy-two hours from the time of arrest to gather the evidence necessary to charge me with the murder. Fortunately, they won't find it and I will be released."

"Hold up, just a minute- _murder?!" _Dave exclaimed. "You're being charged with _murder?! _Of _who?!"_

"Abigail Williams and possibly Drake Stone. Horvath killed them with the parasite spell and took their talismans," Balthazar explained. "The spell drains a sorcerer of his powers and burns the brand of the caster's ring onto the victim. The cause of death is the loss of all electrical energy in the body, which stops all the organs including the heart and lungs. Since healthy young people don't generally just fall over dead, and there are no internal or external injuries or drugs that would result in that, they will label it as 'unknown.' And, an unknown cause of death cannot be classified as a murder."

"You really have this all figured out, don't you?" Dave asked, a little disappointed at spending a good portion of the night planning for an escape that wasn't going to take place.

Balthazar smiled. "Go home, Dave," he said, pushing himself to his feet and moving to the door. "Take care of Veronica for me. She'd probably appreciate it if you'd check out several history books from the library. I'll let you know when I've been released." He opened the door and told the officer they were finished. Dave watched as his master was taken back to the cells, wondering how he was going to break the news to Veronica.

**. . . **

Dave walked back to the subway, going over different ways to tell Veronica about Balthazar's extended incarceration as well as his loss of magic. He boarded the train, not paying attention to the other passengers as he mulled over the possibilities. He stopped by the university first, checking out a number of history books before heading back to the lab. As he was walking out of the subway station, he decided it would probably be a good idea to at least let Veronica know Balthazar wasn't going to be with him before he reached the lab. The lack of magic was something that should probably be discussed in person. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Becky's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Becky, it's me," Dave greeted.

"How'd it go? Is Balthazar with you?" Becky asked.

"No, actually. I wanted to give Veronica a heads-up before I got back. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Okay, we'll head back too, then," Becky said.

"What? Where'd you go?" Dave asked, surprised.

Becky's voice was a little muffled, as if she had moved the phone away from her mouth. "Actually, I think it would match you're skin tone a bit better if it was a few shades lighter... A little more... Yeah, that's the exact color I was thinking of. You make this a lot easier than it usually is." Becky voice became louder again as she answered Dave's question. "First, we went out to breakfast and then we hit the mall," she said.

"What! Balthazar's in jail and you two are out _shopping?" _Dave almost yelled, incredulous.

Becky's tone was remarkably patient. "Dave, Veronica has been sitting around worrying about this since Balthazar was arrested. She needed to get out," she said. "Also, you don't have much in the way of food at the lab. Now, I know you were probably so caught up in preparations for getting Balthazar out that you forgot all about breakfast, but Veronica can't just run down to the store and get something. As far as I can tell, her last meal was lunch yesterday."

Dave winced at his oversight. Becky was right, he had been so focused on the escape plan and mastering the sleep spell that food hadn't even occurred to him.

"Besides, Veronica has one dress that is literally from the Dark Ages. She needs more clothes."

"Alright, fine. Just, make sure she knows Balthazar won't be there, alright?" he asked, tiredly. "And...tell her we need to talk."

"Is it bad? Do you think Balthazar is going to have to serve time?"

Dave shook his head, even though he knew Becky couldn't see him. "No, he said they won't be able to make the murder charges stick-"

"_Murder charges?!"_

Dave rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Look, just get back to the lab soon, okay? I'll go over everything then."

"Okay. We'll head back as soon as we check out."

"Alright. See you soon."

"Bye."

Dave slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning onto the street where his lab was. He picked up the pace, quickly reaching the gate and heading down to the old subway turnaround. Once inside, he dropped the library books on the nearest table and immediately headed to the Encantus, dragging a chair over as he opened the sorcery textbook. "There has to be something in here to help get Balthazar's magic back," he murmured, skimming through the brittle pages with a determined look on his face.

Veronica and Becky finally arrived between forty-five minutes to an hour later, both carrying several shopping bags. At some point, Veronica had changed into a white blouse, long black skirt, dark leather jacket and shiny black boots. Dave stretched, easing the cramped muscles in his back from sitting hunched over the book for so long as the women walked down the stairs.

"Rebecca informed me there were some complications?" Veronica prompted, setting her bags down on the floor before moving over to Dave.

"Yeah," Dave said, sighing. "It turns out, Balthazar isn't in jail for breaking and entering- he's being charged with murder."

Veronica nodded, indicating Becky had told her as much.

"Now, Balthazar said both Abigail Williams and Drake Stone were killed with the parasite spell by Horvath. He said the spell completely drains a sorcerer's energy, but the only mark left on the body is from the caster's ring," he stated, looking to Veronica for confirmation.

Veronica shook her head. "I am unfamiliar with this spell," she said.

"Well, the bottom line is, the cops basically won't be able to find the actual cause of death, so Balthazar will have to be released," Dave explained, shrugging. "All that's left to do now is wait for the ME's report."

"Is that why Balthazar wanted to stay in jail for now?" Becky asked. "Nothing will come of it and he won't have to worry about being charged with escaping?"

"Not exactly," Dave said, rubbing his neck. He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. There wasn't an easy way to say this. "He's lost his magic."

Veronica's eyes widened and even Becky looked a little surprised. "You can actually lose it?" Becky asked.

"Yeah, apparently. He said there are a couple ways it can happen, but it's not necessarily permanent. Unfortunately, there's not really any way to know until he actually _gets _it back," Dave said. He gestured to the large book lying open in front of him. "I've been scouring the Encantus, but..." He shrugged helplessly.

"Well, it could be worse, right? I mean, Morgana's gone," Becky said, trying to be positive.

"But Horvath's still out there," Dave said, grimly. "If he finds out Balthazar's lost his magic..."

"Foolish man," Veronica murmured, anger warring with concern on her face.

Dave and Becky both blinked in surprise, looking at the sorceress.

"The night before last, Balthazar asked me to repair the damage done from the battle with Morgana," Veronica explained. "He said he was too exhausted to do it himself. He should have told me that he'd lost his magic."

"Maybe he didn't know at that point," Dave suggested.

"There is a difference between being too tired to cast and being unable to do so," Veronica stated, her eyes flashing. "Balthazar knew. And he did not say a word to me. If I had known he was without his magic..." She trailed off, shaking her head. The anger seemed to drain from her, leaving only concern behind. "The important thing right now is to make sure Balthazar stays safe. How likely is it that others will learn of his imprisonment?"

"Probably not likely at all," Dave said after a moment's thought. "If Balthazar had his magic, they wouldn't have taken him in the first place. No sorcerer would think to look for him in jail."

"Then he shall be safe until he is released. We can decide on further protective measures at that point."

"So, now that that's taken care of," Becky began, "where would you like to stay until then? My place is kind of small, but I don't think my roommate would mind you staying for a couple days."

"Thank you, but I think I shall return to Balthazar's residence," Veronica said. "He said he'd likely not be able to call again, but I should like to be there in case he does."

"Do you know where it is?" Dave asked.

"I do not know the address, but I remember what the street looks like," Veronica said. "Do you have a paper I might use?"

"Sure." Dave moved to one of the other tables, rummaging through his research notes until he found a blank page. "New York's a big place, though. It might be kinda hard to find one street," he said, handing her the sheet.

Veronica set the page on the table, placing one hand on the paper and closing her eyes as her ring began to glow. After a moment, she opened her eyes and handed the page back to Dave.

Dave raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's...wow." There were two pictures drawn in detail, one of each side of the street, complete with business names and house numbers. "Yeah, I think we can find that. And, it might not be a bad idea to bring my Tesla coil back here," he said, pointing to the Tesla coil tied to the front of the Phantom in the picture. "Balthazar is a bit finicky when it comes to his car."

**. . . **

It was early evening by the time Dave and Veronica managed to get the Tesla coil completely unhooked from Balthazar's car and put back in the lab. It had started raining about halfway through and they were both soaked, Veronica having refused to leave Dave working in the rain by himself. Once he had gotten everything unhooked, Veronica had levitated the Tesla coil, being sure to hold it at such an angle that it looked like she and Dave were carrying it, in case anyone was watching them on the street. Once they were inside, she let him lead and set the coil down where he indicated.

"Thanks, Veronica," Dave said, hauling the numerous cords across the floor and reconnecting the various cables. "My control with levitation isn't all that good. I'd probably have taken out a wall or at least bent the coil."

"I was glad to be of assistance," she said, wrapping her jacket a little more tightly around herself. "Might we build a fire using some of the spare furniture?" she asked. "You seem to have plenty."

Dave looked up, following her gaze to the stacked desks and chairs along one of the walls. "Um, I don't think so. The university uses this place as a storage area and I'm only allowed to be here because of the volatile nature of my project. I don't think they'd appreciate me destroying their stuff." He stood up, looking over her carefully. "It gets pretty drafty in here. We don't have to stay- I can do this later," he offered.

"No." Veronica shook her head. "I do not wish to hinder your work." She paused, considering something. "Is it usual for unexpected guests to arrive?" she asked.

Dave blinked. "Uh, not really. I'm pretty much the only one who comes here, aside from Balthazar and Becky."

Veronica nodded, pulling a chair over to the Merlin Circle engraved in the floor. She moved the chair to the domain of 'elements' and sat down.

Dave watched her curiously as she activated the circle, wondering what she was doing. He jumped in surprise when several roaring fires sprang to life just outside of the Merlin Circle, happily burning in the air.

"Do not let me distract you," Veronica said, holding her hands out to the nearest flame, "I am only warming the room."

"...right." Dave shook himself, turning back to the cables. Veronica was proving to be full of more surprises than even Balthazar.

It took Dave fifteen to twenty minutes to get everything hooked up properly and the room had heated up quite nicely during that time. Veronica had let the fires die and rejoined Dave, asking questions from time to time that he did his best to answer.

Becky walked in shortly after Dave finished, carrying two boxes of pizza. "Sorry it took so long," she apologized. "Dinner rush."

Dave hurried over to one of the tables, clearing a spot for the pizzas. Veronica followed him, looking at the boxes with interest. "What a tantalizing aroma," she commented. "I do not believe I have come across anything quite like it before."

"Oh, you'll love it," Becky assured her. "I wasn't sure what you'd like," she explained, setting the boxes on the cleared table and opening them to show the sorceress. "So, I just went with one pepperoni and one ham and pineapple. Which one do you want?"

Veronica looked at both pizzas, her expression unreadable. "Which would you suggest?"

"Well, they're both good," Becky said, grabbing two chairs for them to sit on. "But I'm more partial to the pineapple myself."

"Then, I'll try that one."

Becky pulled out a slice, setting it on a napkin and handing it to Veronica. She grabbed another one for herself, taking a bite as Dave went for the pepperoni pizza.

Veronica mirrored Becky's actions, her eyes widening. "This is delicious!" she cried, delighted. "I shall certainly have to add it to the list!"

Dave blinked. "List?"

"She's compiling a list of things she wants to learn how to make," Becky explained, smiling as the sorceress daintily finished her piece with surprising speed while somehow not compromising her courtly table manners. Becky shook her head. "I wish I could figure out how you do that."

Veronica smiled. "Years of practice," she said, helping herself to another piece. She froze when she heard the gate outside the lab's door swing shut, her gaze darting to Dave. "Are you expecting anyone?" she asked.

"No," Dave answered, staring at the stairs. "No one."

The door to the old turnaround opened and closed, followed by the sound of footsteps on the metal stairs. Veronica and Dave were already on their feet and Becky moved behind the table even as Dave took up a ready position in front of her. The memory of Horvath and Drake almost killing Balthazar in this very place when the Grimhold was stolen flashed through Dave's mind and he tensed; unaware of the plasma bolt already charging between his palms. If Horvath had come back to settle the score, Dave was going to make sure this ended tonight.

Worn leather shoes were the first thing to come into view, followed shortly by a black duster. One hand covered in a fingerless glove with a large ring on each finger held loosely to the rail as the person descended the stairs. Another step or two revealed shoulder-length dirty blonde curls framing a familiar face, rain dripping from his fedora-style black hat. Balthazar noted the defensive stances the sorcerers had taken appreciatively, although he raised an eyebrow when Dave dropped his plasma bolt, the energy fizzling out before it hit the ground.

"Balthazar!" Dave cried in surprise. "Wha- When did they release you?"

"Oh, right after you left this morning," Balthazar drawled as he moved towards the second set of stairs that would take him down to them.

"Really?"

Balthazar gave Dave a look. "Sure. As an apology, the detectives treated me to lunch. Then, we had a lovely little tea party with crumpets in the park. We were having such a good time that I only just noticed how late it was and asked them to drop me off here," he deadpanned.

Dave blinked. The image his master's words painted in his mind was oddly disturbing. Becky snorted softly behind him, trying hard to stifle her laughter. Veronica looked a little confused, the reference lost on her.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Balthazar went immediately to Veronica, taking her in his arms. "I am so sorry," he apologized, holding her tightly. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Veronica returned the embrace. "You should have told me you were without your magic," she chided him, gently.

"I'm sorry," Balthazar apologized again, ducking his head slightly. He held her for a few more seconds before pulling back. "I see Rebecca wasted no time updating your wardrobe," he said, looking over her new outfit.

"Do you like it?" Veronica asked, stepping back and turning in a circle to show off her new clothes.

"They compliment you well," Balthazar said, a soft smile gracing his features. "You are as beautiful as ever."

Veronica returned his smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "Rebecca was kind enough to take me to the 'mall' and guided me through the 'do's and 'don't's of this time's fashion," she explained.

Balthazar nodded. "Thank you, Rebecca. Remind me to reimburse you later."

"Sure."

Veronica studied Balthazar closely, noting the slight slump in his shoulders. "Are you sure you are all right?" she asked. "You seem a bit tired."

"I'm fine," Balthazar said. "I'm just glad to be out of there."

"Was it bad?" she asked, concern coloring her tone.

"Not like anything you may be thinking of," Balthazar hastened to assure her. "It's just...like dealing with children."

"How are the people in jail like children, exactly?" Dave asked, looking at his master like he'd finally lost his mind.

Balthazar grabbed another chair, tossing his wet coat and hat on a nearby table as he sat next to Veronica. "No one wants to seem weak in front of the others," he said, reaching for some pepperoni pizza. "It's nothing but talk of course, like bullies on a playground, but it does tend to grate on the nerves after a while."

"The bullies on _my _playground weren't all talk," Dave muttered, taking another bite of pizza.

"That's because everything about you screams 'pick on me,' " Balthazar said without missing a beat.

"Hey!"

"That is kind of the vibe you give off," Becky agreed, sympathetically.

"_Et tu, _Becky?" Dave asked, incredulous. "Him, I expect it from, but _you? "_

Becky shrugged. "Sorry," she said, smiling.

The easy banter continued throughout dinner and it wasn't long before Dave and Balthazar were arguing over who deserved the last slice of pepperoni pizza. When Veronica pointed out that she hadn't tried it yet and would like to at least sample it, Dave knew he had lost. Balthazar was quick to present her with the last piece and Veronica tore off the end, letting him have the rest of it. She chewed thoughtfully before turning back to Becky.

"You were correct, this one is not quite as satisfying as the pineapple and ham," she said.

"That's what I keep telling him," Becky said, linking Dave's arm with her own.

"You do not like it?" Veronica asked Dave, gesturing to the half pizza remaining.

Dave grimaced. "It has pineapple on it."

"Yes, and it is delicious."

Balthazar chuckled. "To each his own, beloved," he said, sliding his arm around Veronica's shoulders and kissing her temple.

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"I'm afraid I'm with Dave on this on," he said, smiling apologetically. "Fruit has no business being on pizza."

"Amen to that," Dave agreed.

Veronica's brow furrowed slightly. "I do not recall you being particularly picky about anything you ate back then, Balthazar," she said. "In fact, quite the opposite was true. One Lammas feast in particular comes to mind..."

Balthazar laughed, tossing his head back. "Yes, that is true. And, believe it or not, I've eaten even _worse _things throughout the years," he said. His gaze slid over to the remaining pizza. "But, if I have any say in the matter, I'd prefer my fruit raw and in a bowl off to the side."

"Well, my love, you do realize that this is how it will be made once I learn the recipe?" Veronica asked, smiling sweetly.

"It's pizza, beloved," Balthazar replied, chuckling. "It's just as easy to put certain toppings on only half."

"So," Dave started, hesitating as he was not quite sure how to address the issue of his master's lack of magic. "What do we do now?" he asked, gazing solemnly at the old sorcerer.

"Now, Veronica and I are going home," Balthazar said easily. "It's late, and we've all had a rather long day. I'd suggest you and Rebecca do the same- she has Physics in the morning and you have Advanced Software Engineering."

Both college students looked surprised. "Okay, stalking _me _is one thing," Dave began, "but why do you have _Becky's _schedule memorized?"

"How do you think I found you after you escorted her to her yoga class?" Balthazar asked.

"I...kinda thought you had just followed me."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "And I waited patiently, giving Horvath ample time to kill you in the bathroom before intervening?"

"He attacked you in the _bathroom?" _Becky asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, it was really weird. You know, in a terrifying way," Dave said, grimacing slightly at the memory. "But, I was asking what are we going to do about the magic?"

"I'm giving you the next week off," Balthazar said. "After that, we'll resume your training."

"What do you mean, resume my training? Aren't I done? I stopped Morgana, didn't I?"

Balthazar gave him a look. "You did well against Morgana, but you won't have the advantage of science over the next sorcerer who comes after you," he said.

"The next one?" Dave asked, a little plaintively.

"The number of sorcerers in the world has been declining for centuries. Maybe there won't be another one. Maybe they'll start crawling out of the woodwork and you'll fight one every other month." Balthazar shrugged. "Either way, I'm not going to leave my apprentice only half-trained."

"I guess that makes sense," Dave said. He blinked, realizing what Balthazar had done. "Stop changing the subject! I was talking about you not having magic, and you know it!"

"Perhaps you can talk some sense into him, Rebecca," Balthazar said, turning to the girl in question. "He seems to have forgotten _he _survived his whole life without magic quite well, up until a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, but I'm not Balthazar Blake, Morganian-slayer since 700 AD!" Dave argued.

Balthazar gave a long-suffering sigh. "Stop being so dramatic, Dave. It's actually quite difficult to tell a fully trained sorcerer from a civilian unless you know the person in question," he said, waving away his apprentice's concerns. "And, my face isn't littering the pages of every Morganian's Encantus, only yours. They have the stories, but nothing else. Very few people out there actually know what I look like."

"But, what if-"

"And, if anything does happen, I'll have Veronica with me," Balthazar interrupted. "You should stop worrying about me and worry more about that project for your Thermodynamics class. It's due next week, isn't it?"

"Wha- How did you know about that?"

Balthazar only smiled. "Well, I'm about ready to call it a night," he said, standing and offering Veronica his hand. "If you kids want a ride home, I suggest you get your things. I can drop you off on the way."

**. . . **

Veronica waited until after they had taken Rebecca and Dave home and were heading back to the hotel before she turned to Balthazar. "Now that the children are gone," she began, the seriousness of her tone pulling his eyes from the road, "will you tell me what has been on your mind?"

Balthazar chuckled softly. "Even after all these years, you can still read me like an open book."

"It seems some mannerisms do not change over time," she replied, a small smile turning the corners of her lips.

"I guess not." Balthazar sighed. "Horvath is still out there."

Veronica nodded. "Yes, but Morgana is gone. He cannot hope to perform the Rising himself. Morgana made sure of that."

Balthazar shook his head. "That's not his goal. Apparently, everything he has done has been out of a sort of revenge against me personally."

Veronica looked shocked. "You two were as brothers! How could he have come to hate you so?" she asked.

"Because I had your love, and he did not," Balthazar explained. "This jealousy has been twisting him for longer than you were imprisoned. He's not about to let go of it simply because the easiest way to exact revenge is gone. Especially not now."

"Because I have been reunited with you?" she asked.

Balthazar shook his head. "Because he knows I've lost my magic," he explained. "He was in the cell next to mine."

"This is indeed grave news," Veronica said, sitting back in her seat. She stared out the window silently as all the possible ramifications ran through her mind. "Would it not be better if Dave knew of this?" she asked at length.

Balthazar shook his head. "The kid's got enough on his plate right now, and he doesn't handle bad news very well. Despite what his age may say, he's still just a kid. Besides, this is my problem, not his."

Veronica nodded, accepting his decision to keep this secret from his apprentice.

"We have some time, anyway," Balthazar continued. "Horvath needs a new focus. We have his cane and I put him in the Grimhold back in the '20s, so any financial assets he might have had were lost during the Great Depression. It's possible that he may have some expensive items stashed away somewhere, but I doubt they are still there if they were anywhere in the city and anywhere outside the city will take some time to get to without transportation or money. Then, he has to find someone who can make him a new focus or has one already on hand. That will be the most difficult part."

"I'd imagine rings would be difficult to come by, as magic cannot be openly practiced," Veronica commented.

"Difficult, but not impossible," Balthazar said. "He'd been sealed away for eighty years, but still managed to find a Morganian helper in a day or two. Still, without any money or magic, he won't be able to recover as quickly as he normally would. It'll probably be a week, maybe two if we're lucky, before he's in a position to try anything."

"Then we shall have to remain vigilant," Veronica stated. They lapsed into a pensive silence for a few moments. At length, Veronica spoke again. "So, what _do _you have planned for this week?" she asked, turning to look at Balthazar. "I imagine there is something on the agenda, or else you wouldn't have given Dave the time off. It is obvious he is still an apprentice, even at his age."

Balthazar laughed. "Yes, we've had a bit of a rough start, but he's actually doing very well, considering I only started training him a few weeks ago."

"You only found him a few weeks past? Not when he was child?"

"Actually, I found out it was him ten years ago," Balthazar admitted.

Veronica blinked. "Then, why have you not trained him?" Veronica asked slowly, confusion coloring her voice.

Balthazar looked decidedly uncomfortable. "There was an incident with an urn..." he hedged. Although trapping both himself and Horvath in the urn to save Dave had seemed like the best solution at the time, ten years of reflection had given him plenty of time to discover all the flaws in that plan. Such as no one remaining to guard the Grimhold. Or anyone to teach, protect, or even just keep track of Dave. 1260 years was a long time to be searching only to end up losing the Prime Merlinian to something as inane as a car accident. For all he knew, Dave could have been in another country by the time he was released from the urn.

Veronica raised an eyebrow when he didn't continue. "Do tell," she said.

"You know, it doesn't really matter," Balthazar stated, shaking his head. "As for this week, I've got a few things that need to be done which I've been putting off in favor of training Dave. Getting a more permanent residence, for one," he said, looking distastefully at the hotel as he pulled into the parking lot. "Another is to hopefully fulfill that promise I made to you two weeks before...well."

Veronica turned to him, her eyes widening. "You mean...?"

Balthazar nodded, smiling. "I think our forty days are up. The customs have changed quite a lot in some aspects, but if you'll still have me, we can be married by a Justice of the Peace as soon as we get your papers in order."

Veronica threw her arms around his neck, laughing as she kissed his check. "I never have, nor will I ever, wish to be with anyone but you, my love."

Balthazar returned the embrace, drawing her into a deep kiss. He pulled back after a moment, still smiling. "We should probably retire for the night," he said, opening his door. "We have a lot to get done tomorrow."

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	3. Chapter 3

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter** 3**

Dave looked up from his text book as someone knocked on the door of his apartment. Tank cocked one ear at the sound before rolling over and ignoring it altogether. "Some guard dog you are," Dave muttered, smiling as he scratched the bulldog's ears before moving to the door. He pulled it open, blinking in surprise. "Becky! I thought we were meeting at the library to study. I'm not late, am I?" he asked, checking his watch.

"No, you're not late," she assured him. "But, my roommate and I finished a bit early, so I thought we could head to the library together."

"Uh, sure," Dave said, still looking a little surprised. "Yeah, that'd be great. Let me just grab my bag," he said, ducking back into the apartment.

They met Bennet on the way out. "Hey, Dave, Becky," Bennet greeted, nodding to them. "You finally taking your girl out on a date?"

"We're going to the library, actually," Dave replied.

"Dude," Bennet began, putting his arm around Dave's shoulders and pulling him off to the side, "we have _got _to have a talk about acceptable places to take a girl on a date. The library just ain't gonna cut it, man."

"We're going to study," Dave said defensively.

"Uh-huh." Bennet didn't look convinced. "Well, you got a letter, today," he said, releasing Dave and handing him a white envelope before moving past him up the stairs. "And, we'll be having that talk when you get back!" he called over his shoulder.

Dave looked the envelope, turning it over in his hands. It was addressed to him with no return address, but there was something familiar about that handwriting.

"What is it?" Becky asked as he walked back over to her.

"I'm not sure," Dave said, opening it and pulling out a slim strip of photo paper. His eyebrows shot up. "That's...unexpected."

"What?" Becky asked.

Dave handed the paper to her. There were three pictures on it, looking like they had been taken in a photo booth. The first was of Balthazar with Veronica behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The second had the two of them side by side, sharing a kiss. The last was a close-up of their left hands, both ring fingers sporting a new ring.

Becky gasped. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

"Probably," Dave said. "Balthazar's been waiting for her for almost 1,300 years."

"Aw, that's so romantic," Becky crooned. "But, what is at the bottom?"

Dave looked back at the photo paper, noticing a date, time and place had been scribbled at the bottom. "It's probably when he wants me to start training again...wait, this is today. No! He said he was giving me a week off! I still have one more day!" Dave complained.

Becky laughed, taking his arm and pulling him out of the apartment building. "There's only one way to find out," she said. "And if we hurry, we hopefully won't be too late!"

**. . . **

Despite their best efforts, Dave and Becky ended up being about twenty minutes late.

"I don't think you're here for training, at least," Becky commented, looking at the building. 'Arturo's Coal Oven Pizza' was proclaimed in large gold letters on the glass windows.

Dave didn't reply, still a little mistrustful of his master's true intentions. He held open the door for Becky and they both walked inside.

It was still early enough in the day that it wasn't overly crowded and it didn't take them long to spot Balthazar and Veronica sitting at a table in the corner, talking quietly.

The hostess smiled at them, grabbing two menus. "Party of two?" she asked.

"No, we're with them," Dave said, pointing towards the corner.

"Alright, if you'll follow me, please," she said, leading the way.

Balthazar smiled as he saw them walking over. "So glad you could join us," he commented, just a little sardonically as they sat at the table.

"What can I get you two to drink today?" the hostess asked, pen and pad held at the ready.

"Sprite, please," Becky answered.

"I'll have a root beer," Dave said.

The hostess nodded, turning to Balthazar. "I'll bring your food right out," she said.

"We already ordered," Veronica explained.

"Although we were beginning to wonder if you were going to show up," Balthazar added.

Dave opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again as a waiter walked over to their table with a stack of plates and a tray. He placed the plates on the table with a basket of mozzarella sticks, as well as a few different dipping sauces and Dave and Becky's drinks. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" he inquired politely.

"No, thank you," Veronica said.

The waiter nodded and left, disappearing into the kitchen.

"I just got your letter today," Dave said, a little defensively, as he helped himself to the appetizers.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, setting a cup of marinara sauce between his and Veronica's plates. "I sent it four days ago. Even in New York, the mail is not that slow."

"I don't exactly get a lot of mail, so I don't check it that often," Dave admitted.

"These are absolutely exquisite!" Veronica cried.

"I told you you'd like them," Balthazar replied before turning his attention to Becky. "What about you, Rebecca? Didn't you receive your invitation?"

Becky paused, having just popped the last piece of a mozzarella stick in her mouth. She quickly chewed and swallowed before answering. "I haven't gotten it yet, but I'm afraid I don't check my mail all that often, either," she admitted.

Balthazar sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I forgot you kids all text these days. Mail seems to be a thing of the past."

The mozzarella sticks were quickly finished and the waiter reappeared, clearing away the dishes and setting the salads on the table before disappearing into the back again.

"So, Mrs. Veronica Blake, huh?" Becky said as she started on her salad. "I can't believe you didn't invite us to the wedding."

"It wasn't much of a wedding," Veronica admitted, pouring ranch over her salad. She lifted her fork a little awkwardly, still trying to get used to using the odd utensil.

"We thought a small ceremony would be best," Balthazar explained, discreetly adjusting Veronica's grip on the fork. "Especially considering the differences between then and now."

"What are some of the differences?" Becky asked, taking a bite of her salad.

"What do you know about medieval weddings?" Balthazar asked.

Becky took a moment to swallow the food in her mouth. "Not much," she admitted.

"It would have started with our fathers discussing a proper dowry," Veronica began. "After an agreement was reached, the marriage would be arranged and a wedding notice would be posted on the door of the church. It would state the persons to be married and give the townsfolk time to raise any objections. The length of time the notice remained upon the door varied from town to town, but forty days was common where we lived in. If no valid reasons to call off the wedding were brought up in that time, and the groom was still agreeable to the union, the couple would be married on the steps outside the church."

"Hm, I guess that would be kinda hard to do today," Becky agreed, reaching for her cup. She sipped her soda pensively. "But, what about all these modern wedding traditions?" she asked. "Didn't most of them start in medieval times?"

"Sure," Balthazar agreed, taking a bite. "But not all of them are what you'd call 'happy traditions.' Take the 'bridal party,' for instance."

"That's just another name for the 'wedding party,' isn't it?" Dave interjected.

Balthazar nodded, taking a drink before answering. "Now days, yes. Back then, however, the bridal party was the group of men, usually the groom's friends, who would help him kidnap his bride. They also made sure the bride got to the church and the groom's house after the wedding," he explained.

"That's...a little disconcerting," Becky said, her eyes sliding over to Veronica. "Did that happened a lot?"

"It took place most often among the lower classes," Veronica said, carefully setting her fork along side her plate and dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "But, it was not an uncommon occurrence."

The waiter came back, clearing away the dirty dishes before bringing out two pizzas, which were set on stands in the middle of the table. He refilled Veronica's and Dave's drinks, asking if they needed anything else before returning to the kitchen.

"Well, that's one thing," Becky said, carefully selecting a piece of the pizza. "What are some others?"

"Traditionally, the groom stands to the left of whoever's conducting the ceremony so he has easy access to his sword," Balthazar said as he helped himself to a slice of pizza. "The best man was there to help him in case the bride's family came in fighting, so to speak."

"That sounds surprisingly violent," Dave said, sprinkling parmesan cheese over his pizza.

"It could have been worse," Balthazar replied, shrugging.

"Are all the traditions like that? What about the garter throw?" Becky asked, pouring ranch on her slice of pizza. "I've always wondered how that came about."

Veronica looked at Balthazar curiously, never having heard of that tradition.

"Ah, the garter throw. That was started several centuries after you were sealed, beloved," Balthazar said, answering Veronica's silent question before turning back to Becky. "Almost anything the bride wore was considered lucky for the person who could get it off her and the bride's clothes were frequently shredded by the time she made it to the marriage bed. So, to preserve their modesty, brides began throwing their garters, which were thought to ensure faithfulness if given by a man to his love, into the crowd as a distraction." He laughed suddenly. "I'd actually pity anyone who would have been foolish enough to try taking something off Veronica."

"I should like to think that you would be helping me rather than merely watching for the entertainment, my love," Veronica said, helping herself to another slice.

"That's one of the reasons why I'd pity anyone who'd be that foolish," Balthazar replied without missing a beat. "I can't be held accountable for anything I might do if someone is threatening you, beloved," he said, leaving over to kiss her cheek.

"Are there any traditions with non-violent roots that you kept?" Becky asked, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

"Well, we're counting this as our 'wedding feast,' so to speak," Balthazar said, finishing off his second slice of pizza. "That has changed into the reception these days."

"I do wish we could have had a cockatrice to go with the meal," Veronica said, dipping her crust in the marinara sauce.

"I did look for anyone willing to make one, beloved," Balthazar said. "But, that is one tradition that fell by the wayside centuries ago."

"What's a cockatrice?" Dave asked.

"Standard feast fare, back in the day," Balthazar said, grinning at his apprentice. "Half of a chicken sewn to half of a suckling pig, basted in saffron water and roasted to perfection." He sighed, remembering days long ago. "Nothing beats to good cockatrice."

Dave stared on his master. "A chicken and a baby _pig? _Actually _sewn _together?" he asked, incredulous, before shaking his head. "You're just messing me, aren't you?"

"Oh no," Veronica assured him. "It is actually quite good. I shall have to make one for you to try."

Dave couldn't help thinking of the baby pig he had had trouble dissecting in high school Biology class. He shuddered.

"Any other traditions you kept?" Becky asked quickly, rescuing Dave as she re-routed the flow of the conversation.

"I wore a blue dress," Veronica said, tactfully allowing the issue of the cockatrice to drop.

Becky looked confused. "Blue? Isn't white the traditional color?"

"Blue used to signify purity," Balthazar explained, taking a drink of his soda. "While most brides simply wore their best dress, those who could afford it would have a blue gown made specifically for the wedding."

"Hm." Becky leaned back in her seat, thinking back over the conversation. "Okay, so I can see why you didn't want to make a big production out of it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "But, you could have still had just a small ceremony in a church, or something."

Balthazar shook his head. "There's too much planning for any type of ceremony. We had a lot to do this week."

"Oh, right! I forgot about the honeymoon! Did you go anywhere?"

Balthazar gave the blonde a look.

"I...don't want to know the origins of that tradition, do I?" Becky asked.

"Probably not," Balthazar said, accepting the bill folder brought by the waiter. "Besides, you were in class and Dave is always complaining about his 'life outside of magic.' "

"Hey, I wouldn't have complained about that!" Dave argued.

"In any case," Balthazar continued, ignoring the interruption, "the only role I would have had for Dave would have been that of the 'best man' and, while he's coming into his own in magic, I would not trust him with a sword."

"Why would I need a sword? It's not exactly like Veronica's family would be coming to take her back," Dave pointed out.

"You see?" Balthazar asked, directing his words to Becky as he gestured to his apprentice. "He's already complaining about the hypothetical situation."

Dave huffed, just a little petulantly. "You know I would have been happy to help with whatever you needed," he said, folding arms across his chest.

"You want to help, eh?" Balthazar asked, grinning as he turned to his apprentice. Dave quickly adopted a deer-in-the-headlights look, certain he wasn't going to like his master's next words. "The wedding feast was typically provided by family and friends," Balthazar continued, passing the bill folder to his apprentice.

Dave blinked at the price. "There is no way this meal can cost that much."

"I think you'll find it's an itemized receipt," Balthazar said, the beginnings of a smirk playing about his lips.

Dave gaped helplessly for a few seconds, not quite sure how to tell his master he didn't have that kind of money laying around before Veronica rescued him. She reached over to him, gently resting her hand on his arm. "Balthazar was joking," she assured him, taking the bill back.

Dave glowered at his master.

"The look on your face was worth it," Balthazar grinned, unrepentant. He accepted the bill folder from Veronica, filling out the receipt and slipping a credit card into the plastic sleeve and setting it back on the table.

"So, what did you do during your week off?" Veronica asked as the waiter retrieved the bill folder.

"Nothing much, just went to school and studied, basically," Dave said, shrugging.

"And you, Rebecca?"

"Pretty much the same," the blonde replied. "Although, I also work at the radio station, which I really enjoy."

"I'm glad you like music, Rebecca. I think you should pursue a career in that field. If you enjoy what you do, you'll never work a day in your life," Balthazar advised sagely, before turning to his student. "But you, Dave, sound like you had a very dreary time. School and studying without anything to break up the monotony?"

"Actually, it was a rather relaxing week, not having a demanding teacher torturing me during 'training' and stalking me the rest of the time," Dave interjected.

"Fortunately for you," Balthazar continued, ignoring Dave's comment as the waiter returned his credit card to him, "I have finished my mini vacation and am ready to continue your training." He picked up a napkin, scribbling an address on it and handing it to his apprentice. "Four o'clock tomorrow- and this time don't be late."

**. . . **

Dave was walking quickly down the street, the napkin Balthazar had given him clutched in his hand. He glanced at his watch. "3:55," he muttered, reading the numbers on the buildings he as he hurried passed. "I still have five minutes to find it."

He found the building in question on the next block, stopping in surprise at the name freshly painted on the glass windows. "Arcana Cabana. Antiquities, Obscurities, Unusual Gifts. Balthazar Blake, Proprietor." Dave shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't _really _be surprised," he muttered, opening the door and stepping inside.

Dave _was _surprised to see some of the same stuff he remembered from the store ten years ago. Although all of the shelves and display cases were empty, Dave could see antique lamps, miscellaneous statues of varying size, glass jars filled with questionable contents, dusty books, pottery, jewelry and more in open boxes covering every counter, table and piece of furniture in the room. More boxes were stacked all over the floor, making the store feel just as cramped as he remembered. Even though most everything was still boxed up, Dave was careful not to bump into anything as he made his way towards the back. Just because the urn was nowhere in sight didn't mean there weren't other dangerous artifacts lying about.

Balthazar looked up from the list of inventory he'd been going over at the counter in the back. His eyes shifted from his apprentice to the clock on the wall and back again. "Dave. I see you're on time," he greeted, closing the book. He didn't move from his spot, folded arms resting on the glass countertop as he studied his apprentice with an appraising eye.

Dave struggled not to fidget under the unexpected scrutiny. That calculating expression made him nervous on the best of days and never boded well before a training session. "What?" he asked at last, his voice coming out a bit more exasperated than he would have liked.

"Have you considered moving?" Balthazar asked.

Dave blinked, completely taken off guard. "What?" he repeated, his confusion evident in his tone.

"A different apartment building would be best," Balthazar continued. "I've looked around and found a few that fall within your budget, at least if Bennet went with you or if you found another roommate."

"I still have eight months left on the lease!" Dave argued. "Do you know how much I have to pay for breaking that?! And, what makes you think I would want to move, anyway?!" he demanded.

"Horvath knows where you live," Balthazar said simply. "Then again, he knows where your lab is and where you go to school. There's not much point in changing one location but not the others and I doubt you're willing to transfer mid-semester."

Dave's eyes widened slightly, having forgotten that Horvath had attacked him in his apartment once before. "Do you think he'll come after me?" he asked almost hesitantly.

Balthazar's expression was unreadable. "I honestly don't know," he said, shaking his head. "If he can use you to further his own agenda, then yes. However, as Morgana was defeated, he must know you no longer need the ring, which makes you much more dangerous. He won't come after you unless he is absolutely certain of the outcome, and even then you would have to be an integral part of his plan for him to risk it. However, a little extra caution on your part wouldn't be a bad idea." He studied his gangly apprentice for a moment longer. "The law states you're an adult capable of making his own decisions, so I won't pressure you," he said at length. "But think about it, at least." He pushed himself off the counter, changing the topic. "We'll be practicing down in the basement."

Dave followed him through a door behind the counter, trying to put the possible threat of Horvath out of his mind. Horvath would have killed him a couple times already had Balthazar not stepped in. Dave had been lucky when he faced Morgana and he knew it. Her lack of knowledge concerning the modern world was what had saved him. He wouldn't be so lucky against someone who had changed with the world as the centuries passed. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave the shop unattended?" he asked, grasping for anything to derail his current train of thought. Balthazar wasn't very forgiving of distracted apprentices, no matter what the reason.

"It'll be fine. Most people steer clear of places like this and anything that looked expensive was pawned off when everything was put into storage," Balthazar said.

"Oh. I'm...sorry to hear that."

Balthazar shrugged. "This place started out as a dumping ground for any unusual items that came into my possession, magical or otherwise. People don't like unexplained phenomena and were more than happy to be rid of most of the things in my collection, whether they were actually dangerous or not. Somehow word got around and after the first few eccentric collectors came knocking at my door, I decided to open the shop," he said. The staircase turned away from the wall near the bottom, the last few stairs leading into the room.

Dave rounded the corner of the stairs on his master's heals, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. The room was large and open. It contrasted sharply with the cluttered store above and Dave found himself wondering if the basement didn't extend out underneath the buildings on either side. The floors, walls and roof were all made of stone, the Merlin Circle carved into the floor in the center of the room. Several tables were scattered about the room. A number of shelves lined the walls, each supporting quite a few candles to augment the dim light put out by the two electric bulbs at either end of the room. Veronica was seated in one of the chairs a table off to the side, reading the Encantus. She looked up when they entered the room, smiling. "Hello, Dave," she greeted, closing the book.

"Hi."

"Today, we're going to work on attacking while maintaining a barrier," Balthazar said, turning to his apprentice. "We'll start off with plasma bolts, as you seem to have finally gotten the hang of using those. Stand in the 'Elements' domain."

"Um, how are you planning to attack me?" Dave asked, moving over the appropriate symbol and activating the circle. "Or, defend, for that matter?"

"Veronica will be assisting us," Balthazar explained, holding his hand out to his wife as she joined him. "She will be your sparring partner today."

"Oh, ah, hm." Dave scratched his head, working his jaw agitatedly as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "Balthazar, I-I can't _attack _Veronica," he said at length, waving his arms to punctuate the statement.

"Why not?" Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "It's just practice."

"That's not the point!" Dave exclaimed. "I just can't! She's...you know..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the woman in question.

"Yes, she's a member of the opposite sex," Balthazar stated blandly, moving to the table as Veronica took up position in between he and Dave. "If you'll recall, so was Morgana."

"That was _different!"_

"You know how to create a shield and you know how to shoot plasma bolts," Balthazar continued, ignoring Dave's protestations. "Using the two together is all about timing. You have drop your shield so the plasma bolt can pass through it, but reform the shield before your opponent's bolt can use the same opening," he explained. "Right now, we're focusing mainly on speed: how fast you can raise and lower your shield. As your control improves, we'll work on how to open holes in the shield to throw the bolt through, instead of dropping it altogether."

Dave hesitated, clearly not comfortable with the arrangements.

Balthazar almost rolled his eyes. "Chivalry died out a long time ago, Dave," he said. "You won't hurt her."

"_Balthazar!" _Dave's voice had a definite plaintive whine to it. "Isn't there some _other _way we can do this?"

"It looks like you're going to have to start, beloved," Balthazar said, taking a seat and leaning back.

Veronica nodded before turning to Dave. "I am sorry I make you uncomfortable Dave, but this is an important skill to learn and Balthazar is unwilling to wait until he can be your opponent," she apologized.

"Don't hold back too much," Balthazar advised. "Dave learns much better when there's an element of danger involved."

"Understood," Veronica said, nodding again. She smiled at Dave, who was now looking decidedly nervous. "Prepare yourself."

Dave's eyes widened as she created a plasma bolt and threw it at him. He hastily pulled a shield together, blinking in surprise as the bolt barely touched the barrier before fading. He looked at Veronica, debating to ask whether her attack was that weak on purpose.

Balthazar was also studying his wife, his expression indiscernible. "That's holding back a little too much," he said carefully.

Veronica nodded, looking a little unsettled as she tried again. This time Dave felt a little pressure against his shield before the bolt was spent.

"Is everything alright, beloved?" Balthazar asked, a bit of concern coloring his voice.

"I am not certain," Veronica said, a little hesitantly. "It almost feels as if something is...blocking my magic, somehow," she stated.

Balthazar's eyes went almost immediately to her boots. "Take off your shoes," he instructed. "And try it again."

Looking a bit puzzled, Veronica did as he said, slipping off the boots and setting them aside. Closing her eyes, she created another plasma bolt and threw it at Dave.

Dave yelped in surprise as his shield shattered and he was thrown back, hitting the floor and rolling a couple times from the force of the attack.

"Oh yes, that's much better," Veronica said, sounding relieved.

Balthazar nodded. "The rubber soles on your boots were blocking the current. It's hard to find shoes without that these days," he said, sitting back in his chair once more. "We'll go pick up some new ones for you later."

Veronica nodded, eyeing the boy still lying on the ground. "Are you all right, Dave?" she asked politely.

"Ow," Dave groaned, picking himself up off floor. "I had no idea the shoes made _that _much difference," he said, moving a bit stiffly back to the 'Elements' domain. "You're gonna hold back now, right?"

Veronica blinked. "I _was _holding back."

Dave groaned again, thinking about all the bruises he would undoubtedly be sporting tomorrow.

**. . . **

Dave gingerly lowered himself onto the newly cleared spot on the antique couch in the store front, wincing. He accepted an ice pack from Veronica, holding it to his head.

"I am sorry, Dave," she apologized. "I really was trying to hold back."

"S'alright," Dave sighed, leaning his head back against the cushion. "Balthazar has done the same thing many times. Except for the apology."

Balthazar didn't turn around from the bookcase he had just cleaned and was now filling with books. "A master's job is to find the best way to teach his apprentice what he needs to learn."

"Even if it kills the apprentice in the process?" Dave asked.

"You worry too much, Dave."

Dave muttered darkly under his breath.

"I shall see to dinner," Veronica said, heading upstairs.

Dave let his eyes wander about the room as he enjoyed the respite, brief as it was, from training. His gaze eventually fell to the small table next to the couch. A stack of books had been set on its surface, a yellowed skull- missing the lower jaw -resting on top. Dave stared at it for a few seconds, debating whether he should ask about it, or if it was something he really didn't want to know about. His curiosity won out over common sense.

"Hey, Balthazar?" he asked. "I was just wondering... Why do you have a human skull? I mean, it's real, right?" He paused as an unsettling thought occurred to him. "It wasn't someone you knew, was it? Because that's just beyond creepy, even for you."

"It's real," Balthazar confirmed, still not turning around. "That's Marvin."

Dave blinked, not sure if he should know who 'Marvin' was. He turned back to the skull, more than a little surprised to find it had turned to face him.

"Well, you're a new face," the skull commented, rocking slightly to the side in a mockery of someone tilting their head curiously.

Dave screamed, falling to the floor in his haste to get away from the skull.

Marvin screamed as well, turning and hopping down to the table top to hide behind the stack of books.

"Th-that, that _skull _just talked!" Dave cried, pointing a shaking finger at the table. "Skulls _can't _talk!"

"Heavens, child! Don't startle me like that!" Marvin scolded, peaking out from the stack of books. "You're liable to wake the _dead _with all that screaming!"

Balthazar resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the bad pun. "Hello, Marvin," he called from across the room.

The skull turned towards his voice. "Balthazar! How delightful to see you again!" Marvin greeted, jumping down off the table and hopping towards the older sorcerer. The base of the skull and teeth hit the hardwood floor with a sharp _click-clack _each time he landed. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me."

"I got trapped in the urn," Balthazar explained, setting the now empty box aside and retrieving another, dusting the books as he put them on the shelves.

The skull _tsked _shaking his head disapprovingly. "I told you to move it somewhere a little more out of the way," Marvin chided. "Accidents can happen to anyone, after all."

"It wasn't exactly an accident."

"Balthazar?" Dave's voice was noticeably higher than usual.

"Dave, this is Marvin," Balthazar said, making introductions. "Marvin, this is Dave. He scares easily, so try to be nice."

"Pleasure, I'm sure," Marvin said, turning towards Dave and leaning forward on his teeth, as if bowing.

"Uh, what...I mean, um..."

"Simply put, Marvin is a prime example of why a dabbler shouldn't attempt complicated spells," Balthazar explained, answering the question Dave was having trouble articulating. "Especially without knowing half of the laws that govern magic."

"Hey, I got the immortality part right," Marvin said defensively.

"On a technicality, yes," Balthazar agreed. He then turned to the skull, raising an eyebrow. "Would you do it again?"

"No," Marvin admitted. "Being tied to a skull makes for a rather dull existence."

"So... Is that really _your _skull?" Dave asked, morbidly curious.

"No, no. Of course not," Marvin hastened to assure Dave. "I was still alive when I cast the spell. It belonged to Tonya. Pretty little thing she was, all ivory skin and fiery red hair. Her temper, on the other hand, well... Nasty piece of work, that. Did you know she decided to stay on as a ghost for a time after she was killed? Always nagging about this and that- nothing could ever satisfy her." He sighed, teeth _clacking _softly against the floor. "I can't tell you how _relieved _I was when she finally left. I actually had breathing room again, metaphorically speaking, that is."

"Being murdered does tend to ignite one's temper," Balthazar stated blandly.

"You _murdered _her?" Dave asked, eyes wide. "Why would you _do _something like that?"

"Some sacrifices must be made for the sake of progress," Marvin sniffed, skull rotating on its base and leaning back slightly, as if he were trying to turn his nose up haughtily.

"Morganians have a much looser 'moral code' than Merlinians, Dave," Balthazar explained.

"Morganians? He's a _Morganian?!"_

"Bit of an excitable fellow, isn't he?" Marvin asked, turning to Balthazar.

The older sorcerer sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You have no idea."

"He's a _Morganian _trapped inside the _skull _of someone he _killed!" _Dave exclaimed arms flailing as he gesticulated wildly. "What if he tries to kill _you _while you _sleep?!"_

The skull settled on the floor, becoming still. Balthazar sighed, turning to face his apprentice. "Do you honestly think I would let something that meant me harm roam my shop freely?" he asked. "There are safeguards in place."

"Such as?"

"When he trapped himself in the skull, he was stripped of his magic," Balthazar explained, patiently. "Because he is bound to one object in particular, he can't interact with anything in the physical world except through that object."

"You're telling me he's basically harmless?"

Balthazar shrugged. "He can no longer do anything on his own. He can't even come out unless someone near him calls his name." He bent down, scooping up the silent skull and setting it on the counter. "Just as his name will wake him, the word 'sleep' will return him to his dormant state."

Dave stared at the skull pensively for a moment. "Sorry," he apologized at length. "I shouldn't have freaked out like that."

"You still have much to learn," Balthazar agreed. He cocked his head to the side, listening. "Come," he said, setting the box he'd been working on aside. "Leave the skull alone for now. Veronica calls."

Dave groaned softly as he pushed himself to his feet. He followed Balthazar's lead, heading to the back of the store. His eyes lingered on Marvin for a few seconds and he shivered, wondering what other 'surprises' Balthazar kept in his store.

**. . . **

It was about a week before the Arcana Cabana was cleaned, inventoried, organized and open for business. Not that Balthazar expected much business. It was very much like a specialty shop, even among antique dealers and he hadn't done much in the way of advertising. Word had a way of getting around to the right circles on its own when magic was involved.

Still, Balthazar didn't expect anyone to come on the first day they were open, which was why he was enjoying a cup of his particular blend of herbs upstairs when he heard the bell chime in the store. Veronica was busy with lunch and both Dave and Becky were in class, which meant he had customers.

"If you build it, they will come," he muttered, setting his cup aside. "But, only when you're enjoying your tea." He was almost down the stairs when he heard Marvin's unmistakable voice.

"Thank you for visiting your local Arcana Cabana. Your business is important to us. Please stand by and an associate will be with you shortly."

There was a _clack _that Balthazar assumed was to supposed to replicate the sound of a recording turning off and he rolled his eyes. Schooling his features, he entered the back of the shop, noting the young couple was already waiting patiently at the counter. The man was of medium height with sandy blonde hair and green eyes staring out of a tanned face. He had the resigned look of a man who just can't talk any sense to a woman and has finally given up trying. The woman was a bit shorter with pale skin that was offset by her long, dark hair. Her hazel eyes darted around the room nervously, obviously a bit unsettled by some of the questionable items on display.

Mentally raising an eyebrow at the odd pair, Balthazar stepped up the counter. "Can I help you?" he asked.

The woman's eyes snapped up to meet his blue gaze and she blinked. "Uh, the sign in the window says you deal with unusual items?" she said questioningly, gesturing vaguely to the front of the store.

Balthazar nodded. "That's right."

"Do you buy them as well as sell?" she asked.

Balthazar shrugged. "Depends on the item."

The woman nodded to the man and he lifted a 20"x16" painting that had been resting on the floor and laid it on the countertop. The picture seemed to be of an alchemists' lab, although Balthazar knew from experience that it would have been impossible to work in such a cluttered area. Bowls of colored powder, beakers, books, a small cauldron, a few different types of bones, eating utensils, mushrooms, an old scale and much, much more covered every surface available in the painting. An old man in robes was standing over the large cauldron hanging in the fireplace at the back of the room and there was a long list of words on a chalkboard next to him, several of them crossed through with a line.

Although it was an old picture, Balthazar didn't see anything unusual about it, nor could he feel any magic in it at all. "I'm afraid I don't see anything unusual about this painting," he stated. "Why don't you tell me what I should be looking for?"

"My skull," a hoarse voice rasped. "Bring me my skull."

The woman shrank back from the counter, clinging to the man's arm as her wide eyes stared fearfully at the painting from beneath her dark bangs. The man jumped at the unexpected voice, his gaze darting between the woman and the painting in disbelief.

"I see," Balthazar said, placing his hands on the frame and lifting the picture as if to view it better. The physical contact helped, allowing him to sense the spells that had been placed on the picture decades ago, maybe even a century or two past. He focused on the painting, drawing out his magic as he concentrated on a silencing spell. His ring remained cold on his finger and he closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenched as the all-too-familiar bitterness and disappointment washed over him. He pushed the pain away, laying the picture back on the counter as he returned his gaze to the couple.

"I told you I wasn't imagining it!" the woman said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.

The man nodded, unable to form a reply.

Balthazar smiled reassuringly, masking his own feelings easily enough from long years of practice. The lie was already on his lips and flowed smoothly from his tongue. "I've seen these before," he said, turning the painting over. "A company made them for Halloween a number of years back. It has a small speaker built into the frame and a motion sensor to trigger it when someone walks by. You can see where they ran the wire right here," he said, pointing to a long crack down the side of the frame. "This one seems to be broken, though. The recording seems to be triggered at random. I have the tools in the back to turn it off, if you'd rather," he offered, knowing Veronica could cast a silencing spell on it.

The man looked relieved at Balthazar's easy-to-believe, non-supernatural explanation. He started to nod, but the woman cut him off. "No," she said adamantly, shaking her head. "I don't want it in the house! Just take it, please! Whatever you think it's worth is fine! I just _can't _take it back home!"

The man sighed, the long-suffering look back as he silently pleaded with Balthazar to buy the painting.

"Alright," Balthazar acquiesced, meeting the man's eyes. "How much do you want for it?"

It wasn't long before a price was agreed upon, the check written and the young couple on their way, sans one enchanted painting. As soon as the door closed, Marvin was off his shelf and hopping quickly to look at the newest addition to the store.

"Is that was I think it is?" the skull asked, tilting to one side and then the other to look at the picture.

"Probably," Balthazar answered, making a note of the transaction in his ledger.

"I used to _love _these things! I haven't seen one in _ages! _Can I play with it?"

Balthazar gave him a look.

"Come on!" Marvin whined. "You've been upstairs with Veronica all day while I'm down here with nothing to do, watching the store!" The skull shifted and Balthazar had the strangest impression that if Marvin had hands, they'd be firmly planted on his hips...provided he had those, as well. "I don't need to remind you how _boring _that is when you don't have anyone to talk to, do I? Just let me play with it for a little while?" Marvin begged.

Balthazar considered it. He hadn't expected any customers at all today, which was why Marvin was awake in the first place. The likelihood that any _more _people would drop by was incredibly low. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "Just don't forget to act like an _ordinary _skull if someone _else _comes in."

Marvin _whooped_, doing a back flip and landing precariously on the edge of the counter.

Balthazar caught the skull before it fell to the floor.

"Don't worry, Balthazar! I won't let you down! Yessir, you can count on me!"

Balthazar just rolled his eyes, putting Marvin and the painting in the corner (so they'd be out of the way, just in case) and headed back upstairs to finish his now-cold tea.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	4. Chapter 4

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 4**

Becky walked quickly down the street, her umbrella keeping most of the rain off her as she checked the numbers on the buildings against the address written on a slip of paper in her hand. She smiled when she finally found it only to stop short when she saw the sign in window. "Arcana Cabana? No way..." she muttered, double-checking she had the right address. It matched the one Dave had given her. She tried to remember back to that class field trip all those years ago, the last one Dave had gone on before transferring to another school. She didn't remember much of the buildings, but she did remember it was within walking distance of the park they had eaten lunch at with a view of the Statue of Liberty across the bay. This building was on the wrong side of the island.

That day had been a rather odd one. Dave had passed her a note, asking if she'd like to be his friend or girlfriend, and then promptly disappeared. Although Becky remembered the teacher finding Dave standing outside that store with wet pants (which he claimed was water from a jar that had broken), she couldn't clearly remember what he had said had happened. Something about the store being on fire...and crazy wizards? Becky blinked in sudden understanding. The teacher had looked in the store, but found nothing amiss. The name of the store was odd enough that she doubted two people would randomly pick it, which meant that Balthazar had something to do with what had happened that day.

Becky opened the door to the shop, shaking the excess water from her umbrella before stepping inside. Shelves and display cases were packed with all manner of odd and creepy things, but there was no one inside. "Hello?" she called, a little uncertainly as she cautiously walked down one of the narrow walkways. Two faint voices caught her attention and she moved towards the back corner, peering over the counter.

"Bring me my skull," a hoarse voice rasped impatiently.

An actual skull hopped back and forth in front of the painting, agitatedly. "I already told you, I can't!"

"Stop being lazy. It's underneath the chair in the corner."

"I _know _where it is!"

"Then bring it to me."

"I can't!" The skull shook its head vehemently. "How many times do I have to tell you?! I _can't!"_

"Then be gone. I'll find another assistant."

"Well, at least I know I've got the right place," Becky murmured. Dave had told her about Marvin earlier in the week, although it was a little different actually seeing the skull move about and talk on its own in person. She was distracted from the strange scene when she heard the door in the back of the shop open.

"Oh, Rebecca," Balthazar greeted, entering the store. "You're here early. Or, is it that late already?" he asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. "So it is. I'll inform Veronica you're here. She and Dave are almost done for the day." He turned to head back down into the basement.

"Uh, Balthazar," Becky said quickly, taking a step towards him. "Um, not to be rude, or anything, but..." She glanced back to where the skull was still arguing with the painting. "What's going on over there?"

Balthazar looked towards the corner and rolled his eyes. "Marvin," he called.

Marvin didn't seem to hear him, intent on his argument with the picture.

"_Marvin," _Balthazar said again, putting a little more command into his voice.

The skull was still oblivious.

Sighing, Balthazar closed his eyes. "_Tonya."_

The skull jerked upright, shuddering. "You know I _hate _it when you do that, Balthazar!" Marvin complained, spinning to face the sorcerer.

"Then you should learn to pay attention."

"Pay attention?" The skull bristled. "I'll have you know that I used to be the finest sentry in the fifth garrison! Why, not even a stray cat could escape my notice!"

"And yet," Balthazar cut in, "Not only one, but _two _people have come in with you none the wiser."

"Preposterous!" Marvin exclaimed before he noticed Becky. "Oh, and who might you be, madam?" he asked, hopping up onto the counter and heading towards Becky.

She couldn't help taking a reflexive step back.

"Marvin, this is Rebecca Barnes," Balthazar introduced. "Rebecca, this is Marvin, a soul trapped in a skull. You have nothing to fear from him."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Marvin said, leaning forward on his front teeth in a mockery of a bow.

Becky managed a short nod. "Hi."

"Do you enjoy moonlit strolls along the shoreline?" Marvin asked, straightening up. "With the warm wind from the ocean rustling your hair...the soft sound of the waves breaking against the beach...no one around for miles but you and me-"

"She's already taken," Balthazar cut in again. "This is Dave's girlfriend."

"Alas, all the fair maidens around here are already spoken for!" Marvin lamented, falling dramatically onto his side. "Am I doomed to spend eternity alone?"

"Yes," Balthazar stated.

The skull rolled back upright, glaring at Balthazar reprovingly. "You know, you could be a little more sympathetic to my plight."

"Anyone who wishes for immortality deserves their fate."

Marvin winced, having forgotten that this was a rather sore topic for the sorcerer. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to-"

"We'll be closing up soon," Balthazar interrupted, moving over to pick up the painting of the alchemist. "Get back on your shelf."

Marvin obeyed without question settling himself in for the night. He perked up when he saw the painting in Balthazar's hand. "Oh! Balthazar, might I ask a favor of you? That nasty old man in the painting wouldn't let me play the game because I couldn't touch the items! Could you put a spell on it to make it such that it can be voice-interactive?" he asked.

Although she couldn't see his face, Becky noticed the way Balthazar's shoulders tensed at the word 'spell.' However, there was no noticeable difference in his voice when he spoke.

"Not right now, Marvin."

"But-" Marvin began.

"Sleep."

The skull fell silent as Balthazar laid the painting on the counter.

Becky cast about for something to say, the reminder of Balthazar's lost magic hanging heavily in the air. "So, what is this?" she asked, gesturing to the picture. "It was arguing with, uh, the skull earlier," she said, remembering what Dave had told her about using Marvin's name to wake him. "Is there a soul trapped in here too?"

"No," Balthazar answered, perfectly composed as he turned the picture towards her. "It is the magical version of one of those 'hidden picture' games," he explained. He touched the skull in the bottom corner and it disappeared, reappearing on the table near the alchemist. The word 'skull' was crossed off the chalkboard.

"Finally," a hoarse voice rasped. "Now, bring me my purple mushrooms. I need four of them."

Becky blinked. "That's...kind of cool," she admitted. "Can I try?"

Balthazar shrugged. "Sure. I'll let Veronica know you're here," he said, heading downstairs.

Veronica entered the shop a few moments later.

"Well done!" a hoarse voice rasped. "Finally, an assistant who knows what he's doing! With this, I can finally finish my potion!"

Veronica stepped forward, glancing down at the painting as the old man dropped something into the cauldron bubbling over the fire. Pink smoke began billowing from the pot, covering the entire picture before thinning and fading away. The room had been completely rearranged and there was a fresh list on the chalkboard. The old man coughed, waving his hand as if to clear the smoke.

"I guess we'll have to start again," he said. "Bring me my bucket."

"That's pretty cool," Becky said, smiling.

"It is interesting, isn't it?" Veronica agreed.

Becky jumped slightly. "Oh, Veronica. Sorry, I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"I apologize for startling you. Do you wish to finish this game first?" Veronica asked.

"No, that's alright," Becky assured her. "Dinner will be late enough, as it is."

Veronica nodded, leading the way upstairs to the kitchen. "Balthazar is starting Dave on illusions, so we shall not be disturbed," she explained. "May I ask what you have prepared to teach me tonight?"

"I was thinking of starting with something easy, like lasagna," Becky said. "But, if you have something you'd like to try, we can do that instead."

Veronica shook her head. "Lasagna will be fine."

They entered the kitchen, both grabbing an apron and putting it on. "Alright," Becky said, washing her hands in the sink. "Let's get started."

**. . . **

"How about that?" Dave asked, grinning triumphantly.

Balthazar looked up from the Encantus, not seeing the vase Dave had been trying to vanish anywhere in sight. He stood, moving over to where Dave had been practicing and slowly waved his hand over the table. He paused when he felt a faint tingle of magic. He hadn't been able to sense an enchantment on an item without physical contact since he'd lost his magic. Was it finally returning? It had almost been a month since that night... Balthazar lowered his hand, following the tingle to the invisible vase and picked it up. He turned it over his hand contemplatively. It was a fairly basic spell as far as sorcery went, one he should be able to perform if his magic truly was returning. He stared at the seemingly empty space in his hand, focusing on the hidden item and willing it to become visible once more. The vase didn't even flicker in his hand, his ring remaining dark.

"Well done," Balthazar said quietly, placing the invisible vase back on the table.

Dave groaned. "But?"

Balthazar raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Don't give me that look! You only sound _that _disappointed when I've made some 'rookie' mistake," Dave stated.

Balthazar blinked. It seemed Dave could be perceptive when he wanted to be. "You mean aside from the fact it took you four days to master a basic spell?" he drawled, quickly covering his lapse.

"How is making something _completely invisible _basic?" Dave asked, incredulous.

"Just because it defies all the laws _you _know doesn't make it a difficult spell," Balthazar commented. "Make it visible again."

Dave stared at the table, his ring glowing as the vase faded back into view.

Balthazar nodded approvingly, moving back over and closing the Encantus after marking his place. "That's all for today. Since you want something a little more complex, we'll work on changing something's appearance tomorrow."

"That sounds easy enough," Dave said.

"Really?" Balthazar turned quickly, making Dave jump a little. "That's a nice shirt you're wearing."

Dave glanced down at the plain gray t-shirt he had on. "Uh, thanks?" he said, a bit confused at Balthazar's abrupt change in topic.

"How many seems does it have in it?" Balthazar asked.

Dave blinked. "Uh..."

"How are the fibers woven together? How does it crease when you move? Is there any elasticity to it? How does it look when it is stretched?"

Dave shrugged helplessly. "I, I don't know!"

"These are all points you have to consider if you put an illusion of _this shirt-" _Balthazar poked Dave's chest for emphasis, "on something else. Obviously, the more complicated the item, the more difficult the spell. This one would be fairly simple by comparison."

Dave sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, I get your point," he said. "But, can we wait until next week?"

"Why?" Balthazar asked.

"Well, my several of my teachers decided they hate me, because I have _four _midterms next week. I need time to study if I want to pass," Dave explained. "And, I promised Becky I'd help her study for her Physics class."

Balthazar studied Dave for a long moment.

"Come on, Balthazar!" Dave pleaded. "I've already sacrificed a lot of my study time to train! I'm just asking for a weekend!"

"Alright," Balthazar said at last, heading up the stairs. "You can have next week off. After that, we'll be back to our usual schedule."

Dave blinked. "Next week off? As in, the _entire _week?"

"Unless you'd like to resume your training earlier," Balthazar called over his shoulder. "Just don't forget to practice."

"I won't!" Dave promised, hurrying up the stairs after his master. He paused in the shop, noticing the sun was still up. He checked his watch. It was 5:07 pm. He blinked. Balthazar never let him go that early, not even on a Friday night.

"Dave," Veronica called, walking down from upstairs. "Rebecca would like you to meet her at her apartment in about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" Dave looked at his watch again. "Ah! I gotta go!"

"Farewell," she called after him as he rushed out of the store.

Dave hurried down to the subway, just catching the train before it left the station. He checked his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair as he wondered how Becky knew he would get out of training early today. Or, had it just been coincidence? Dave snorted, knowing exactly what Balthazar would say to that.

It wasn't long before Dave reached his stop and a few minutes more before he reached Becky's apartment building. He walked inside, opting to climb the stairs when he saw the group waiting for the elevator. It didn't take him long to reach the third floor and he knocked on Becky's door.

The door opened a couple inches, a woman with long brown hair peaking out past the chain.

Dave cleared his throat. "Um, hi," he said, a bit nervous under her scrutiny. "I'm looking for Becky?"

"I'll see if she's here," the brunette said, her voice soft as she closed the door.

Dave stood there for a little bit, fiddling with the hem of his shirt a bit nervously. Soon, he heard the sound of the chain being unhooked and the door opened, revealing Becky.

"Hi, Dave," she greeted, giving him a quick peck on the check. "Sorry about the wait, I wasn't quite ready."

"No problem," Dave said, following her down the hall. "Um, was that your roommate?"

"Yeah," Becky answered, glancing back at the door. "Tamra's a little on the paranoid side. She moved from a small town and hasn't gotten over all the horror stories you hear about New York."

"Oh. Uh, we should probably take the stairs," he said, remembering the crowd waiting for the elevator.

Becky shrugged, correcting her course.

"So, Veronica said you wanted me to meet you here...?"

"I want to go to dinner and movie," Becky said, linking her arm with his. "And, I want you come with me."

"Are you taking me out on a date?" Dave asked. "Because, I thought it was supposed to be the other way around."

Becky laughed. "It's the twenty-first century. Girls are allowed to ask guys out."

"But, how'd you know I'd be free this evening?" Dave pressed. "Balthazar isn't exactly one to give time off without a good reason."

"Well, I asked Veronica if she could talk Balthazar into giving you a night off so we could do something."

Dave smiled, putting his arm around Becky's shoulders. "We should really go out more often."

"Veronica also asked me about school and I got to talking about my midterm. She asked if you had one as well and said she'd talk to Balthazar about giving you some time off to study." Becky smiled, looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary. "So, you're free all next week, right?"

Dave had to scrape his jaw off the floor. "You mean, Veronica arranged that, too?" he asked.

Becky nodded. "She said Balthazar agreed that your other studies were important and wasn't opposed to you taking time off for them."

Dave muttered under his breath, scowling. "I'll bet he just likes to see me squirm," he muttered.

Becky laughed again, opening the door out of the building. "Come on," she said. "Tonight's just about you and me. No looming tests, no vindictive masters- just you and me."

"Alright, milady," Dave said, mimicking Balthazar in one of his more playful moods with Veronica. "Lead on and I shall follow."

Becky grinned, interlocking her fingers with his as she lead him down the street.

**. . . **

Veronica leaned back on the bench, watching the other people in the park. A small group of children were playing some distance away, their mothers talking at a picnic table in the shade near them. A pair of teenagers laughed as they rode their bikes along the sidewalk, veering around a woman who was jogging in the opposite direction. An older group of kids were laughing and yelling as they threw a ball back and forth, enjoying some game. Veronica closed her eyes, listening contentedly to the sounds of merriment all around her.

"Here you are," Balthazar said, handing her a white paper dish as she opened her eyes. "One hot dog, as promised," he continued, taking a seat on the bench next to her.

"Are these really made out of dog?" she asked, taking a bite.

"No, it's actually a combination of chicken, beef and pork," he said.

Veronica chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. "It is quite good," she said. "Why do they call it a 'hot dog' if there is no dog actually in it?"

"That's a good question," Balthazar said, taking a bite of his own. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer. There's a lot in this world that doesn't seem to have a logical explanation."

"Strange," Veronica agreed, taking another bite. She looked down when something brushed her leg, spotting a black cat rubbing against it. The cat looked up, meowing plaintively when it met Veronica's eyes.

"Hello, little one," she said, reaching down to stroke the dark fur. The cat ducked its head, shying away from her hand. "It's all right," Veronica coaxed softly, holding her hand still as the cat first sniffed and then licked her fingers.

"Here," Balthazar said, tearing off a bit of the meat from his hotdog and tossing it on the ground.

The cat immediately snatched up the morsel, scarcely pausing to chew. It sniffed the ground, searching for more pieces before looking up at Balthazar and meowing again.

"Are you hungry, little one?" Veronica asked, tearing a few pieces off her hotdog and feeding them to the cat. The feline hesitated at first, but the offer of food proved too tempting and she ate the tidbits from Veronica's hand, licking her skin afterwards and meowing for more. The sorceress obligingly pulled off a few more pieces, feeding almost half of her hotdog to the cat before the animal was satisfied.

"You were famished, weren't you?" Veronica commented as the cat rubbed against her legs again, purring contentedly. She fondled the cat's ears, running her hand down its back. She frowned, gently picking the cat up and setting it on her lap. "You poor thing," she cooed, continuing to stroke its back. "You have little more than bones beneath your fur, don't you? It is no wonder you were so hungry. Balthazar, might we take her home?" Veronica asked, turning her dark eyes to her husband. "It seems too cruel a fate to leave her to starve."

"You can't save all the animals in the world, beloved."

"I am not asking to save all the animals in the world," Veronica replied, smiling as the cat leaned into her hand as she scratched under its chin. "I am asking to save this one. Please, Balthazar?"

"It looks like she might have had a collar until recently," Balthazar commented, reaching over and lifting the upraised line fur around the cat's neck with one finger. "We'll have to check with Animal Control to see if anyone has reported her missing."

"And, if they have not?" Veronica pressed.

Balthazar chuckled. "Yes, we can keep her. Although, she may not be a girl at all. Let me see her," he said, taking the cat from Veronica's lap. The cat yowled and squirmed as he turned it on its back, but he held it firmly. "Well, it's a girl," he said, brushing his thumb through the fur on her belly. "I can't tell if she's been fixed or not, though."

"Fixed?" Veronica repeated. "Weight aside, she seems well enough to me."

"'Fixed' is a common term used when an animal is spayed or neutered," Balthazar explained. "Basically, it just means she has had an operation that would prevent her from having kittens."

"I see." Veronica took the cat back, running her hand across its back. "And, would it be a problem if she were not 'fixed?'"

"Well, I wouldn't really care to have fifteen cats clawing my furniture." Balthazar reached over, scratched behind the cat's ears. "The vet can tell us one way or the other when we get her checked out."

"Vet?"

"Veterinarian- a doctor that specializes in treating animals. If no one has reported her missing, I think we should have her looked at."

"Might we check with this 'animal control' now?" Veronica asked, still stroking the cat. "I imagine that, if she is lost, her owners would like her back sooner rather than later. And, I'm sure she would like to go home," she said, scratching behind the cat's ear.

Balthazar shrugged. "Sure. Let's head back and I'll give them a call," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Veronica rose as well, holding the cat securely against her chest. The feline seemed content to be carried, purring softly as Veronica continued stroking the dark fur.

It didn't take long for the Blakes to make it back to the shop and Balthazar looked up the number in the phone book while Veronica took the cat upstairs. "I imagine you are still rather hungry, are you not?" she asked, setting a saucer of warm milk on the floor. The cat sniffed it cautiously before eagerly lapping it up. "Such a beautiful creature," Veronica murmured, kneeling on the floor as she ran her hand over the cat's back. She could easily feel the outline of every vertebra along the spine.

Balthazar came upstairs a few minutes later. "No one has reported her missing," he said, pulling a chair out from the table.

The cat jumped at the unexpected noise, whirling around and nearly upsetting the saucer.

"It's all right," Veronica soothed, smoothing down the ruffled fur. "There is nothing for you to fear here."

"They'll let us know if someone reports her missing in the next five days," Balthazar continued, watching the cat as she warily continued drinking the milk. "Otherwise, she's all yours."

"What shall we name her?" Veronica asked.

Balthazar cocked his head to the side. "Don't you think you should wait and make sure no one claims her before getting attached?" he asked.

"She had a collar once, but it has been removed and she has not eaten in several days. I do not believe anyone will be coming for her," Veronica stated.

"You're probably right," Balthazar agreed. "But, just in case, let's hold off on giving her a name for now, alright? She can be 'cat' for a few more days."

Veronica sighed. "I suppose you are right."

Balthazar studied her for a moment. "I never knew you like cats so much," he commented.

"Merlin always kept several cats," she reminded him. "The gray and black stripped one used to sleep curled up by my feet at night."

"The old mean one, with the crooked tail?" Balthazar asked, surprised. "I didn't think he like anyone but Merlin."

"He didn't like you because you and Maxim tormented the poor creature."

"You weren't there, Veronica. The cat smelled like it had died and been rotting for a week. It _needed _a bath."

"I do not believe dunking it in the river was the best way to accomplish that."

"It seems some lessons have to be learned the hard way," Balthazar stated, shrugging. "I still have a few scars on my hands from that."

The cat finished off the milk and began exploring the room, sniffing the floor curiously.

"Let us hope you learned your lesson, then," Veronica said, moving carefully to join Balthazar at the table so she didn't startle the feline. "For I will not have you tormenting this cat."

"Yes. Always make sure the cat is tied up before you bathe it in the river."

Veronica gave him a look.

"Kidding," Balthazar said, holding up his hands placatingly. "But, we do need to pick up some cat food, at the very least."

"Cat food?" Veronica asked. "Do you not simply feed her table scraps?"

"A lot has changed, beloved," Balthazar explained. "Pet food is now generally purchased at the store and has the proper nutritional values for different types of animals."

Veronica considered for a moment. "I dislike leaving the cat alone so soon after changing her environs," she said at length. "But, it has not yet been a month and there has still been no sign of Horvath." She shook her head. "You said he would need one week to replace his focus, but it has been three. I do not know what he may be planning, but I do not wish you to go to the store or remain here alone. That may be just the opening he is waiting for."

Balthazar nodded. "We can put her in the bathroom for now. She'll be fine until we get back."

Veronica nodded, carefully approaching the cat and picking her up. Balthazar grabbed a spare blanket, leaving it folded as a makeshift bed for the cat and set in on the floor in the bathroom. He also filled the sink with a bit of water so the she would be able to get a drink.

Veronica set the cat on the blanket, which she immediately hopped off of and started sniffing curiously. The sorceress watched her for a few seconds before exiting the room and quietly closing the door behind her.

They headed down to the nearest convenience store, Balthazar leading the way to the pet section. Veronica looked at all the different decorations for fish tanks while Balthazar selected a moderately sized bag of kitten chow, as well as a box and some kitty litter. After a moment's hesitation, he threw some cat treats into the cart as well.

"These are all for pets?" Veronica asked in surprise as she wandered up and down the isles.

"Yes. Believe it or not, this is a rather small section. There are entire _stores _that carry nothing but merchandise for animals," he stated.

Veronica shook her head. "Astonishing."

It only took them a few moments to check out and soon they were on their way back home. Balthazar carried in the heavy bags while Veronica brought everything else. They could hear the cat meowing plaintively when they stepped inside.

Veronica headed upstairs, placing the purchases on the table before opening the bathroom door. The cat stood there for a moment before cautiously walking out, sniffing the carpet as she continued exploring the apartment. She darted behind the couch when Balthazar kicked the door to the stairs shut behind him. He shrugged when Veronica look at him reprovingly.

"If she's going to stay here, she'll get used to it," he said dismissively. He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, opening the bag of cat food and scooping a small amount into the bowl and setting it in a corner of the kitchen so it'd be out of the way. He got another bowl for water, setting it next to the food.

"Shall I bring her in here?" Veronica asked.

"No, let her find it on her own," Balthazar said. "We don't want to feed her too much too fast."

Veronica nodded, sitting on the couch as she watched the cat while Balthazar put the rest of the purchases away. Once she had finished exploring the room, the cat moved back over to the sorceress, rubbing against her legs.

Veronica obligingly pick her up, setting the cat on her lap as she scratched behind the feline's ears. The cat purred loudly, leaning into Veronica's hand and butting her head against the sorceress' arm when she stopped. Veronica laughed, running her fingers over the soft fur as the cat settled down on her lap, curling into a ball. Balthazar walked into the room, sitting next to his wife.

"Look at her, Balthazar," Veronica said, still petting the cat. "Does she not look content?"

"It's a cat, beloved," Balthazar replied. "It doesn't take much to make them happy."

"I think she's fond of me," Veronica stated.

"Of course she is," Balthazar agreed, slipping his arm around Veronica's shoulders. "It's hard not to be."

Veronica smiled, still gazing at the cat.

"However, there is still one issue that needs to be addressed," Balthazar continued.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"She needs a bath."

Veronica just rolled her eyes.

**. . . **

Veronica opened her eyes, blinking lazily in the darkness. She laid there, staring at the darkened ceiling above her bed as she tried to figure out what had woken her. There was a wheezing and raspy sound off to her right and she turned her head towards it. A dark bundle of fur was crouching where Balthazar's head should have been, the labored breaths gaining a bit of a hacking cough undertone.

Veronica's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "No, little one!" she cried, hastening to free her arms of the covers to reach the cat. "You mustn't do that-" The cat coughed up a hairball on Balthazar's pillow. "-there," she sighed, finally managing to free herself of the covers. "Doing such things will not endear you to Balthazar," she informed the cat. "He has said I can keep you, but if you do not behave he may yet change his mind. Two days remain until I can give you a name, after all."

She reached for the candle and holder on the nightstand, lighting the wick. Now able to see, she moved the cat off the pillow and stripped the case off, carrying both case and candle to the bathroom. She cleaned the case as well as she could in the sink, setting it aside to be washed later.

Returning to the bed, Veronica pulled back the covers, running her hand along the sheets on Balthazar's side. They were cold. She sighed, knowing it was likely several hours before dawn, and went about searching for her wayward husband.

She stepped out into the hall, expecting to see the pull-down stairs that allowed access to the attic. It was Balthazar's favorite haunt when insomnia struck and she knew he had several woodworking projects in varying degrees of completion at the moment. However, the stair ladder was still folded up in the ceiling, indicating Balthazar wasn't there.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Veronica peeked into the guest room and kitchen, ascertaining her husband wasn't anywhere in the apartment, before heading downstairs. A cursory glance at the shop showed he wasn't there either and she continued down into the basement. Two solid _thunks _met her ears, so close together it almost sounded like one sound as she descended the stairs. She rounded the corner, raising an eyebrow at the sight.

Three wooden targets with a cardboard bull's-eye had been set up, each several feet further back than the one before it. Balthazar pulled something out of the furthest target before walking back towards the stairs, five throwing knives held loosely in his hands. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Veronica, still holding her candle.

"You know that we have electricity for that now days, right?" he asked, setting the knives on a table several feet from the stairs.

She shrugged, closing the distance between them. "The bright glare of the lights hurt my eyes so soon after waking," she explained. She tilted her head to the side questioningly. "I looked first in the attic, but you were not there."

"The pieces need to be nailed together and I didn't want to wake you," he said. "So, I decided to practice down here, instead."

"With throwing knives?" Veronica asked.

Balthazar shrugged. "I used to be pretty good with them, but it's been a long while since then." He laughed a bit wryly. "The first knife I threw just bounced off the target."

"And, has your practice this morning improved your skills?" Veronica asked, picking up one of the blades and turning it over in her hands.

Balthazar picked up the remaining four blades, holding two in each hand. He raised both arms, bringing his hands down in a quick motion and letting the knives fly. All four knives hit the nearest target, the two groups several inches apart. "I like to think so," he said, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he shrugged. "Four out of five times, anyway."

"Impressive, my love," Veronica complimented, idly turning the knife in her hands. "Could you teach me?"

"It isn't an easy thing to learn," Balthazar warned, retrieving the knives he had just thrown. "You'll want to hold the knife like this, gripping the tip between your thumb and first two fingers," he said, turning his wrist so she could see. Veronica mimicked his grip and he nodded in approval. "When you throw it, you'll bring your arm up so it's directly over your shoulder and you want to try and keep it as straight as possible on the downward swing, like this," he explained demonstrating.

"Sounds simple enough," Veronica stated, practicing the swing.

Balthazar only smiled, turning her towards the nearest target and standing behind her. "The hardest part is gauging the distance. You want the knife to hit the target point-first so it'll stick."

Veronica nodded, raising the knife above her shoulder as he had shown her. She focused on the target, picturing the blade sticking out of the center as she let it fly. It sailed through the air, missing the top of the wooden board by several inches and clattering noisily on the floor on the far side of the room. She frowned. "Let me try again."

Balthazar handed her another knife. "You released it too soon," he told her.

Veronica nodded, readying her second knife. This one bounced off the top of the board, landing on the ground behind the target. Her frown deepened. "Just once more."

Balthazar just continued smiling, handing her another knife without a word.

Fifteen minutes (and many unsuccessful knife throws) later, Veronica let out an irritated huff. "I fail to see the appeal," she announced, crossing her arms.

Balthazar chuckled, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's not as easy as it looks," he agreed. "But, that's why making it actually stick on the target is so satisfying."

"Just once more, then," Veronica stated, her voice set with determination. Her ring glowed and the knives flew toward her through the air, settling down on the table next to her. So fixated was she that she almost missed how the hand on her shoulder tightened ever so slightly before Balthazar released her. She turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Balthazar was leaning against the table, affecting an attitude of nonchalance. "Try again," he encouraged her, gesturing to the knives.

Her brow furrow slightly before she realized what concern had robbed him of his rest this night. This was the first she'd used magic to retrieve the blades, either one or both of them doing it manually every time previous. His relaxed position would have fooled her had she not felt his involuntary reaction before he could hide it. "You are worried about your magic," she stated without preamble, throwing knives forgotten as she gave her husband her full attention.

Balthazar was silent a moment, returning her gaze with an unreadable expression before sighing. "Am I that easy to read?" he asked, wryly.

Veronica shook her head. "On the contrary, you hide it quite well," she said. "Perhaps a little too well." She closed the distance between them, leaning against the table next to him as she silently offered her support.

"A few more days will be one month," he said at last.

Veronica didn't say anything, interlacing her fingers with his as she waited for him to elaborate.

"I've traveled all over the world," he continued. "In every case I've heard about where the loss of magic wasn't permanent, the sorcerer has regained a small portion of his power within the first two months."

"There is yet time for your magic to be restored," Veronica pointed out. "We have not yet reached the halfway point of the allotted time."

"No," Balthazar agreed. "But in every case where the sorcerer regained his magic, it was an apprentice. Granted, I've only come across a few masters who have lost their power, but it was permanent in all of those cases." He tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the lines on the ceiling. "The human body deteriorates the older it becomes. Seamstresses find their hands gnarled with arthritis, scribes find their eyesight failing them... The more you use a part of your body over time, the more it deteriorates in later years. What if some thing similar is true of magic?"

"Are you suggesting that magic can be lost when one grows old?" Veronica asked, frowning.

"Not quite," he said. "But, what if the conduit to a sorcerer's magic weakens over time? An outside catalyst would be needed to block it completely, but what if it only shuts the conduit temporarily in apprentices but destroys it completely in masters?"

Veronica looked a bit skeptical. "I'm not sure you've drawn the correct conclusion," she stated.

"Neither am I," Balthazar sighed. "But, I've given it a lot of thought this past month and that is the only conclusion I've come up with so far. Why are the apprentices able to regain their magic, but the masters cannot? Did each of the masters I spoke with leave out something else that happened? That seems unlikely. Does it help to have a master pushing you to try harder? I can't see why it would- who pushes you harder than yourself?" He sighed again, staring at the darkened ring on his finger for several long seconds before shaking his head. "What is the difference? Why is this something apprentices can regain, but masters cannot?"

"I don't know," Veronica said softly, rubbing his back soothingly. "But, there is yet another month remaining, correct?"

Something flickered across Balthazar's face and he turned his head away before Veronica could identify it. She studied him for a moment. "What is it you are not telling me?" she asked.

Balthazar hesitated slightly before sighing. "It's just a possibility, nothing concrete," he hedged.

"Yet, it consumes your thoughts," Veronica pointed out. "What is it that worries you so?"

Balthazar paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "When I began Dave's training, Horvath was on the loose and actively seeking the Grimhold. He had also somehow found out Dave was the Prime Merlinian."

Veronica nodded, not quite sure where he was going with this.

"I focused his training mainly on combat spells or those that can be useful in combat," Balthazar continued. "I knew it was possible that he would have to face Morgana before he was ready and I wanted to prepare him for that as much as I could." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's why I taught him how to create a plasma bolt, even knowing how dangerous it was. But, I don't think I adequately conveyed that danger to him."

"I am afraid I do not follow," Veronica said. "He knows electrocution can strip a sorcerer of his powers."

"But he doesn't know a plasma bolt can be made powerful enough to do just that."

Veronica's brows were still furrowed in confusion. Balthazar saw the instant understanding dawned on her. "That night..." Her voice trailed off, her mind quickly going back over the events surrounding Morgana's defeat. "But, it takes time to create a plasma bolt that powerful- Dave scarcely paused long enough to create the next when he...when he..."

"Restarted my heart," Balthazar finished for her, knowing she still had difficultly talking about that night. "No, those weren't powerful enough by themselves to do it. Nor was Morgana's. I don't even think Horvath's were that powerful. But, that's still a lot of electricity being pumped into one body in a very short amount of time."

Veronica's eyes widened. "You think that the cumulative sum of the plasma bolts may have been enough to make you lose your power?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know. Maybe." Balthazar's voice was carefully devoid of all emotion.

Veronica opened her mouth before closing it again, knowing how meaningless the words would be. Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could. They sat together in silence for a few moments before Balthazar pushed himself away from the table. "Well, it's still earlier than any sane person should be up. Let's head back to bed."

"Should we not put up the targets first?" Veronica asked, following his lead.

"No. I gave Dave the weekend off as well. Kid needs a break every now and again," Balthazar said. "Besides, throwing knives is a good way to relieve stress."

"I found it to be rather frustrating myself," Veronica remarked. "Oh, Dave and Becky will be joining us for dinner tonight, correct?"

"They should be here," Balthazar replied. "I left a message on Dave's phone."

Veronica nodded, retrieving the candle she had brought down. Balthazar waited at the bottom of the stairs, letting her go first. She remembered what had woken her as they reached the ground level and continued on up to the second story. "Oh, I need to retrieve a spare pillow case for you," she said.

"A spare pillow case? What's wrong with the one I have?" Balthazar asked.

"There...was an accident and it requires cleaning."

Balthazar stopped, grabbing her arm and gently turning her to face him. The light from her candle flickered across his face. "What kind of accident?" he asked suspiciously.

"I've taken care of it," she hedged.

"Veronica..."

"You've had enough to worry about tonight."

"It has to do with the cat, doesn't it?"

Veronica gave him her best impression of puppy dog eyes. "Please, Balthazar. Just let it lie."

Balthazar gave her a long look before chuckling. "Alright, beloved," he said, releasing her arm and motioning her to continue. "As long as you cleaned it up, I won't ask for details." Just the same, he was going to flip his pillow over and sleep on the reverse side from now on.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	5. Chapter 5

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 5**

Dave and Becky walked up to the door of the Arcana Cabana, knocking when they found it locked. "So, Balthazar didn't say why he wanted us to come over?" Becky asked as they waited for someone to come let them in.

"I didn't actually talk to him," Dave answered. "I was in class, so he left a message on my phone. Just said we should both come over."

"I wonder why? Balthazar doesn't strike me as the type of person to invite people over 'just cuz,'" Becky said.

"Knowing him, it probably has something to do with training," Dave muttered. "My last mid term was today."

"And, the reason he invited me as well...?" Becky asked.

"To throw me off guard."

Becky laughed, shaking her head. "Dave, sometimes I think you're more paranoid than my roommate!" she said, linking her arm through his and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Training with Balthazar can't be _that _bad."

The bolt slid back in the lock, interrupting the conversation. Veronica smiled at them as she opened the door, stepping back to let them pass. "I had forgotten Balthazar locks the door after he closes for the day," she apologized, leading the way to the back of the shop. "I shall try to remember to procure an extra key for your use. In the meantime, the pair of you should head upstairs. I shall join you presently."

Dave and Becky shared a wondering look as Veronica headed down into the basement. Shrugging, the students climbed the stairs to the apartment, blinking in surprise when they reached the top. The living room had been changed to a dining room, the couches and recliner replaced by a table with a spotless white tablecloth and chairs. Four silver plates were laid out, each with a folded dark blue napkin standing on it and a bowl of water next to it. Balthazar was setting a polished goblet next to each place setting.

"Glad you could make it," he greeted, smiling at them.

"Um," Dave began, staring at the table, "what's going on here?"

"Veronica wishes to celebrate the completion of your mid terms," Balthazar explained. "She wanted to do something special for you, so she decided to prepare a delicacy from back in the day."

"She didn't have to do that," Becky said, smiling. She turned to Dave. "See? Nothing to do with training whatsoever," she said.

"Give it time," Dave muttered. His brows drew down in confusion as he glanced back to the door leading downstairs. "If Veronica is cooking dinner, what's she doing in the basement?" he asked.

"It's best cooked over an open flame," Balthazar explained, his smile widening into a grin as he disappeared back into the kitchen.

Dave had long since learned to be wary of that look.

Balthazar reappeared with a bowl of a variety of berries and a plate with a sliced loaf of homemade bread, setting them on the table.

"Do you need help with anything?" Becky asked.

"No," Balthazar answered. "Go ahead and sit down, Veronica should be up shortly."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Dave said quietly when Balthazar headed back into the kitchen.

"Oh, how bad could it be?" Becky asked.

Dave gave her an incredulous look. "You _do _pay attention in history class, right?"

"Sure, but my teacher focused more on the wars than the cuisine," Becky answered. "You worry too much."

"We'll see."

Balthazar made a few more trips from the kitchen, bringing out several more dishes. Some were easily recognizable to Dave and Becky while others were not. There was a piecrust filled with some leafy vegetable mixed with scrambled eggs and cooked, what looked like a very basic green salad with flower petals in it, a plate piled with what looked like miniature pop tarts, a bowl with a few peeled hard-boiled eggs, and a plate with small cubes of cheese. Balthazar set them around the table, leaving a space clear in the middle. "I think that's just about everything," he said, setting the salt, pepper, a butter dish and a carving set on the table.

"You forgot the silverware," Dave said, starting to rise. "I'll get it."

Balthazar motioned Dave to stay down, shaking his head. "Veronica has gone to great lengths to make an authentic feast- within reason -the same way they did back in the 700s. They ate with their hands and so shall we." He snapped his fingers, heading back to the kitchen. "I almost forgot the drinks," he said, reemerging with a dark green bottle.

"Uh, how authentic are we talking, exactly?" Dave asked. "Is that wine?"

Balthazar gave Dave a look. "You're both underage, Dave. It's apple cider," he said, showing them the label. "Now, all we need is-"

"Balthazar?" Veronica called from the stairs. "Could you get the door for me? My hands are full at the moment."

Balthazar crossed the room, opening the door and stepping back. "Perfect timing, beloved," he said.

Veronica smiled, stealing a quick kiss as she stepped into the room. She was carrying a medium-sized platter, which she placed in the middle of the table.

Becky blinked, her mouth dropping open slightly as she stared at the main course. It was meat of some sort, cooked to golden brown perfection, spinach leaves splayed underneath with a few grapes, blackberries and lemon wedges decoratively placed around it. The only problem was that it had wings on one end and small hooves on the other.

Dave looked just as stunned as his girlfriend. "Is that a...what did you call it before?" he asked a bit weakly.

"A cockatrice," Veronica supplied, smiling brightly as she took a seat opposite Becky. "I promised I'd make one for you and what better time than celebrating the completion of your mid terms?"

"Oh, right," Dave said, giving a sickly imitation of a smile. "It looks good, right Becky?"

"Uh, yeah." Becky didn't sound much more convincing than Dave.

Balthazar took the seat next to Veronica, carving fork in one hand and knife in the other as he smiled at the young couple. "Would you like white meat or dark?"

**. . .**

"That was delicious," Balthazar commented, sitting back in his chair. "You really out did yourself this time, beloved."

Veronica smiled, rinsing her hands in the bowl of water next to her plate and drying them with the cloth napkin. "It was rather good, wasn't it?" she agreed. "Tell me, what did you two think of it?" she asked, looking at the young couple.

"It was definitely different," Dave said.

"But still quite good," Becky hastened to add.

Veronica smiled, pleased the meal she had worked so hard to prepare had been a success, even if she had dirtied just about every dish they owned while making it. She glanced towards the kitchen a bit ruefully, remembering the mess awaiting her there. "I had better start cleaning the dishes," she announced, taking her plate and cup to the kitchen.

Balthazar stood as well, starting to clear the table. Becky immediately stood and started helping. Dave required a nudge before he joined in, as well.

"So, what did you really think of it?" Balthazar asked quietly once Veronica started filling the sink with water in the kitchen.

"It definitely wasn't what I was expecting," Becky admitted, eyeing the platter with the cockatrice's bones a bit distrustfully. Veronica had fused the two skeletons together seamlessly. "But, it's not too bad, once you get past the whole weirdness factor," the blonde admitted. "I mean, it's just chicken and pork, when you get right down to it. But, I don't understand why people made it that way back then. Wouldn't it have been easier to just cook them separately? I mean, it's not like people didn't know it was a pig and chicken sewn together, right?"

"Most everything at a feast was done for the presentation. Each course was brought out one at a time and the servants would walk around the hall so everyone could see it before taking it to the head table. The more ostentatious the feast, the more creative the chefs were with the dishes. Sugar sculptures were also quite popular," Balthazar explained. "Veronica was actually trying to tone it down for you. The cockatrice, and most game for that matter, was traditionally served with the head still attached."

Becky grimaced, staring down at the platter in her hands before turning and following Balthazar into the kitchen.

Once the table had been cleared, Becky helped Veronica with the dishes while Dave helped Balthazar move the table back down to the basement. Balthazar took the heavier end, leading the way. They had to turn it on its side to make it down the stairs and then tip it up on its end to get around the corner at the bottom. They scuffed the walls a few times and Dave almost dropped his side when Balthazar re-adjusted his grip to open the door, but they managed to get the table back to the basement without breaking anything.

Dave raised an eyebrow when he saw the targets set up about the room. "What's all this?" he asked. "Archery practice or something?"

Balthazar snorted. "You'd need a much larger area than this," he said, moving over to the table's previous position and setting his side down. "At least, if your bow was actually worth anything and you didn't want to destroy your arrows."

Dave followed suit, setting his side down as well. "Okay, so what are you using them for?" he asked.

"Throwing knives," Balthazar answered casually, gesturing to the knives laid out on another table. "It's been a while since I really practiced and I was getting a bit rusty," he said, heading back up the stairs.

Dave followed, glancing back at the targets over his shoulder. "Can I ask why you started doing this now?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Dave could practically hear the smile in his master's voice. He bit his lip. On the one hand, he had a pretty good idea _why _Balthazar had suddenly decided to hone his knife throwing skills. On the other, it really could be something as innocent as a way to pass the time. After all, Dave had never seen more than one customer in the shop at a time (if that) and Balthazar had to do _something _in his free time, right? He hesitated as they reached the top of the stairs, mechanically following Balthazar to the guest room to move the couches back to the living room. Deciding that knowing was better than wondering and worrying about it, Dave cleared his throat. "I mean, is there a reason why you suddenly decided to practice throwing knives now? Is it just something to do in your free time? Are you practicing so you can use them in self-defense?" he asked, lifting his side of the couch and helping Balthazar maneuver it through the doorway. "Or, is this going to be incorporated into my training somehow?"

"Throwing knives are a very poor choice for self-defense- they are far too inaccurate. A gun would be much more efficient," Balthazar stated as they wrestled the couch down the hall. "For me, they are a good stress reliever, although Veronica does not share my opinion," he said, lips quirking up in a slight smile.

"Oh," Dave said, relief washing over him. Maybe Becky was right about his paranoia.

"But, you do bring up a very valid point," Balthazar continued as they put the couch back in the living room, lining it up with the still-visible depressions in the carpet from where its legs had rested before. "A barrier to protect you against kinetic energy is vastly different from one to defend against solid items," he said. "That's why Horvath kept a number of knives in his coat. We'll have to add that to the training regiment next week."

Dave sighed, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. He wondered if it was still considered paranoia when he was right.

**. . . **

Balthazar sat behind the counter in the shop, two large piles of receipts, a calculator and his checkbook ledger in front of him. Marvin sat a little off to the side, watching him with idle curiosity.

"So, what is 'balancing a checkbook,' exactly?" the skull asked after a moment.

"It's a way to keep track of how much money is left in your bank account," Balthazar explained, picking up one of the receipts. He studied it briefly, consulting the calculator before making a note in the ledger and putting the receipt into the other pile.

"And, you can't keep track of what your spend in you mind, because...?" Marvin prompted.

"I'm not the only one spending it anymore," Balthazar answered. He looked down as something brushed against his leg. "Hello, cat."

The cat, seeing she had Balthazar's attention, hopped up onto his leg, purring as she rubbed against his arm.

He ignored her, picking up the next receipt.

She butted her head against his arm harder, making his pen jerk across the ledger.

Balthazar frowned at the line across the page and then at the cat. "I can't have you on my lap if you're going to do that," he said, moving her to the floor.

Undeterred, the cat jumped up onto the counter, walking across the papers and rubbing against him lovingly.

"Yes, you're very cute. Go away," Balthazar said, dropping the cat to the floor again.

"It looks like you've made a new friend," Marvin said as the cat lightly hopped back onto the countertop.

Balthazar's reply was pre-empted by the phone ringing. He leaned back in his chair, grabbing the cordless handset off the cradle. "Hello," he answered, shooing the cat off his papers once more. He paused, his gaze becoming a bit wary. "Depends on who's asking," he said guardedly, his tone dropping slightly. He blinked in surprise. "Oh, hello Rebecca. I didn't recognize your voice- you don't usually call the landline. Did you wish to speak with Veronica?" He turned in his seat, starting to get up before pausing once more. "With me?" He listened for a moment. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "How about next Wednesday, 4:00?" He nodded. "When you get off work is fine. I'll see you then." He disconnected the call, staring at the handset for a moment before shrugging and putting it back on the cradle. "I should be able to find something by then," he muttered, turning back to the counter.

The two piles of receipts were now one big mess, the cat lying curled on top of them as she chewed on the pen.

Balthazar sighed, closing his eyes.

"Balthazar?" Veronica called, coming down the stairs with a plate in her hand. "Rebecca gave me a recipe to try for 'cookies'- they are absolutely exquisite! You simply _must _try one!" she said, excitedly presenting him with the plate.

Balthazar picked up one of the cookies, eyeing it dubiously. It smelled suspiciously like peanut butter. He took a bite, frowning as he chewed.

"You do not like it?" Veronica asked.

Balthazar shook his head, swallowing. "It's fine," he assured her. "But, if you're making cookies, chocolate chip is the only way to go."

"Chocolate chip?" Veronica repeated, pensively. "Yes, I do believe chocolate chips would compliment this well."

"It's a different type of cookie, beloved," he corrected.

"Oh." She noticed the mess on the counter, the cat still lying at the heart of it. "I recall you saying something about working down here to avoid the 'mess in the kitchen,'" she commented, smiling. "But, I see you couldn't resist playing with the cat, instead." She set the plate on the table, running her hand down the cat's back. The cat dropped the pen, rising to her feet and butting her head against Veronica's hand.

"Something like that," Balthazar said, discreetly disposing of the cookie while Veronica was distracted.

The cat purred as Veronica stroked the soft fur. Seeing the plate, the cat walked over to it and sniffed at the cookies.

"Oh, no," Veronica said, quickly lifting the plate out of reach. "These aren't for you."

The cat _meowed_, but the sorceress remained firm. Flicking her tail, the cat sauntered back towards the pen, sniffing it.

"The allotted time has passed," Veronica pointed out, turning back to Balthazar. "And no one has claimed her. May we give her a name, now?"

Balthazar watched as the cat approached Marvin, sniffing curiously. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"I am uncertain," Veronica admitted. "Nothing I come up with seems to fit her."

"Out of my face, if you please," Marvin said, turning slightly away. The cat leapt back surprise, fur bristling.

"What about 'Gwen?'" Balthazar suggested, watching as the cat cautiously approached the skull again.

"'Gwen?'" Veronica repeated. "As in, the callous old woman with the cottage on the far side of the town? Who always had an insult for you, no matter what you did to help her?"

Balthazar frowned. "I had forgotten about that," he admitted.

"I'm not sure how you could," Veronica said, shaking her head. "She was quite a vile old crone."

"Ack!" Marvin squawked as the cat batted him with her paw, catching his eye socket and knocking him onto his side. "Get off me, foul beast!" he cried, trying to right himself.

"How about 'Agnes?'" Balthazar continued as the cat eagerly took to the new game, pouncing on the skull as it hopped around the countertop.

"Wasn't that the midwife's goat?"

"I've no idea," Balthazar said, shrugging. "What about 'Tara,' then?"

"Are you certain that is a name?" Veronica asked skeptically.

"It is," he assured her, "but we can come up with a different one if you don't like it. How does 'Lily' sound?"

"That's a type of flower," Veronica pointed out.

Balthazar folded his arms, running through a list of names in his mind. Surely, picking a name for a cat shouldn't be that difficult. "How about 'Arista?'" he suggested.

"Arista?" Veronica repeated pensively as Balthazar rescued Marvin when the cat knocked him dangerously close to the edge. "Yes, I think 'Arista' is perfect."

"I think 'Devil Spawn' is more appropriate myself," Marvin stated, highly insulted at being used as a toy.

"Arista it is," Balthazar agreed, ignoring Marvin. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to take her upstairs with you and close the door..."

Veronica smiled, scooping up Arista with one arm. "Come along, little one," she said, heading back to the stairs. "No more distracting Balthazar from his work."

Balthazar set the skull on his shelf before turning to the mess on the counter. Sighing, he gathered all the receipts and started sorting through them again.

**. . . **

Becky entered the shop, smiling as she saw the sorceress organizing a few books on a shelf. "Hey, Veronica," she greeted.

Veronica turned, looking a little surprised to the see the blonde. "Good evening, Rebecca," she replied. "I thought our lesson was next Friday?"

"It is," Becky agreed.

Veronica blinked. "I'm afraid Dave isn't finished with practice yet," she said slowly.

"I know," Becky said smiling. "That's why I'm here."

Veronica cocked her head to the side slightly before her expression cleared in understanding. "Oh! Yes, Balthazar mentioned you would be coming today."

"Down in the basement, I assume?" Becky asked, heading for the door.

Veronica nodded. "It should be safe enough to go down- Balthazar made sure the stairs would not be in the target range."

Becky looked a little uncertain of what the sorceress meant by that, but shrugged her shoulders as she headed down the stairs. She paused halfway down when a sound similar to that of shattering glass hit her ears, followed closely by a solid _thwok_. Blinking curiously, she continued down the stairs, peering around the corner.

"It's still far too brittle, Dave," Balthazar chided, pulling a knife from a large wooden board and picking up another from the floor. "These are solid objects, not kinetic energy. You need to make it more flexible!"

"I'm trying!" Dave protested, standing from behind the wooden board. "But, it's a little hard to concentrate with you throwing _actual knives _at me!"

"That board's and inch and a half thick," Balthazar said, dismissively. "You're perfectly safe."

"That's not the point!" Dave huffed. "Besides, wouldn't it be easier to catch the knives themselves instead of creating a shield?"

"Sure, unless someone was using a gun. You can't stop the bullet before it has left the gun, and you can't react fast enough to save yourself once it has. However, it would be stopped by your shield."

"Couldn't I just grab the gun instead?"

"Yeah, you could. Assuming, of course, that there is only one person with a gun and that you can see him," Balthazar said. "Plan for the worst, hope for the best."

"No one's ever accused you of being and optimist, have they?"

Becky cleared her throat softly, immediately gaining both sorcerers attention.

"Becky!" Dave cried, a little surprised. "I thought you had to work today?"

"I just got off."

"We'll take a break from shielding for a bit, Dave," Balthazar said, moving back over to the table and picking up the rest of the knives.

Dave jerked back, ready to duck behind the board in case his master decided to test his shield capabilities one last time. "A break?" he asked, cautiously moving out from behind his shelter when Balthazar replaced the knives on one of the shelves. Understanding dawned and he grinned at Becky. "Did you pull some strings with Veronica again?" he asked in a stage whisper.

"Actually, Rebecca asked if she could help out," Balthazar clarified. "You're going to practice with a living target today."

"I thought you said I could take a break!" Dave argued. "And what do you mean by 'living target?'" he asked, suspiciously.

"I said we'll take a break from shielding," Balthazar stated. "And the common definition for 'target' is the object you are aiming at." He moved over to another table with a few chairs around, pulling one out. "Have a seat, Rebecca," he said, gesturing.

Becky took the offered seat while Dave gaped at his master. "I'm not going to practice magic on _Becky! _What if I do something wrong?!" Dave demanded. "It's not like you can fix it!"

"Dave!" Becky cried reprovingly, her eyes darting furtively to Balthazar.

Dave's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said. He stared at his master, jaw working soundlessly as he drew a blank on anything he could possibly say to make up for his lapse.

Balthazar, for his part, didn't react to the callous reminder of his lack of magic. "All the more incentive to get it right the first time," he stated instead, ignoring the comment and pressing on to the current issue at hand.

Dave just gaped at his master, not quite trusting himself to say anything else, even if Balthazar seemed willing to overlook his last slip of the tongue.

Balthazar almost rolled his eyes. "Illusions, Dave," he clarified. "Nothing you do will be permanent, but if you don't focus you may make it appear as if one of Rebecca's eyes is sitting in the middle of her forehead, or some other such deformity." He shook his head. "Do you honestly think I'd let her down here if she could get hurt?"

Dave blinked a bit sheepishly, although he couldn't help a pointed glance at the knives sitting on the shelf.

Balthazar noticed the look. "If you'll recall, I was throwing the knives _away _from the stairs, to prevent any such accidents," he pointed out a bit dryly.

Dave grudgingly had to admit his master had a point. "Alright," he reluctantly agreed, plopping down in the chair across from Becky.

"Good. Now, we'll start with something simple," Balthazar stated, leaning against the table so he had a good view of Becky. "Create an illusion of Rebecca to work with, but do so without her hair."

Becky's gaze snapped back to Balthazar, looking a little startled. "Why?" Dave asked, sounding a bit uneasy.

"There are well over 100,000 strands of hair on her head," Balthazar explained patiently. "Each one capable of moving independently from all the others. Long hair is one of the most complicated parts of creating an illusion on a person. We'll cover that later."

Understanding the logic, if not liking it that much, Dave did as he was instructed. Becky watched him as he concentrated, the green gem on his ring glowing. She waited for a tingle across her skin or a heaviness in the air around her- something to indicate the illusion was in place, but she felt nothing. She blinked as her hair faded from her peripheral vision, reflexively raising a hand to her shoulder where she knew the locks should be. She could feel the strands in between her fingers as she ran them through her hair, but could see nothing. It was quite an odd sensation.

Balthazar studied Becky carefully, walking around her. "Not bad," he said. "Her head is a bit too big and human skulls haven't been quite that oblong for centuries, but we can go over the shape with Marvin later." He gently lifted her chin, turning her head to look at her better. "However, I do want you to arrange her face correctly before we move on. Her ears need to be the same height and size. The tops of them should be about the same height as her eyes and the bottom level with the bottom of her nose. Her nose a bit lopsided and needs to be straightened out. The right eye needs to be a little smaller to match the left eye. Her mouth needs to come up about a quarter inch and should reach almost from pupil to pupil. Her eyebrows need to be moved up a little as well, and the one on the right needs to be centered a bit more over her eye," he said, using his hand to point out the problems on the illusion.

Becky was suddenly glad there weren't any mirrors in the basement. Illusion or not, Balthazar's words painted a horrifying picture in her mind.

Dave looked more than a little disconcerted and embarrassed as he tried to fix her face. Under his master's direction, he tweaked and adjusted the illusion until Balthazar was satisfied. "You know," Dave commented when he finally finished the modifications, "you don't look that bad without hair."

Becky gave him an incredulous look and Balthazar just shook his head.

"What?" Dave asked, genuinely confused.

"Let's continue," Balthazar cut in. "I want you to start with changing Rebecca's eye color. Both eyes need to be the same shade. Once you can do that, we'll move on."

"To hair?" Dave asked.

"No. To freckles, scars, tattoos, piercings... Things like that."

Becky leaned back in her chair, only half listening to the conversation. She knew Dave trained for hours at a time, but she thought it would be a bit more exciting that this. It wasn't long before she was wishing she had followed Balthazar's suggestion to bring to book.

**. . . **

Balthazar opened the freezer, filling a small ziploc bag with ice. Pulling a hand towel from the drawer, he wrapped the bag and headed down the hall to his bedroom. He opened the door quietly and stepped inside.

The lights were off and the curtains drawn, although the late afternoon sun did its best to peek around them. The trashcan had been moved to within easy reach of where Veronica was lying on the bed, curled onto her side. She let out a soft whimper, eyes tightly closed as her nails dug mercilessly into her scalp. She didn't look up as Balthazar approached.

"I brought you another icepack," he said quietly, sitting next to her on the bed.

"It does not help," she replied, although she moved her hand so he could lay it against her temple.

"I also called Rebecca and let her know you weren't up for a lesson today," he continued. "She sends her sympathies and was willing to reschedule for next Friday."

"Thank you."

"Has the nausea worsened?"

"No."

"And the headache?"

Veronica groaned, holding her head. "I am about ready to cut it off and be done with it!"

"I would miss seeing your beautiful face everyday if you did," Balthazar said, running his fingers through her hair soothingly.

Veronica managed a wan smile, opening her eyes just enough to look at him. It quickly turned into a frown. "Are you going somewhere?" she asked, eyeing his trench coat.

"Just a quick trip to the convenience store and back," he assured her.

She gave him a pained look. "Can you not wait until tomorrow?"

"I think we'd both be happier if I didn't."

She closed her eyes once more, adjusting the icepack on her head. "I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you at present."

"I know."

Veronica sighed heavily. "You intend to go alone?"

"Yes."

"What about Horvath?"

"What _about _Horvath?" he repeated.

Veronica opened her eyes to scowl at him. "You know very well what it is I ask, Balthazar," she said, the pain making her cross. "Speak plainly- I am in no mood for games."

Balthazar chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, beloved," he apologized, smiling as he tucked her hair behind her ear before his face turned serious. "It's been a month and a half and there is still no sign of Horvath," he reminded her.

"He is patient. He will strike when the opportunity presents itself," she countered, raising herself up on one elbow.

"He's not _that _patient," Balthazar argued. "He would have created an opportunity by now."

"What if you are wrong?" she asked quietly.

Something crossed Balthazar's face too quickly for Veronica to identify it before it was hidden beneath a mask of confidence. "I've been playing this game for a really, really long time. I think I've learned how he works by now," he said, smiling at her reassuringly. "Besides, it simply isn't feasible for you, or Dave, to spend every moment with me for the rest of my life. And, I refuse to live my life in fear of Horvath appearing at any moment."

Veronica was silent for a long moment before she wearily laid her head back on the pillow. "As you wish," she acquiesced at last, closing her eyes.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, leaning down to kiss her temple before quietly leaving the room.

Veronica felt around for the icepack, putting it back on her head. The headache had come on sometime that morning and had been building all day. The nausea had only appeared during the last hour or so and she had retired to her bed in the hopes she could sleep it off. When sleep eluded her, she found herself wishing for something, anything, to distract her from her misery. Now she had her distraction, but wished she didn't. Even as badly as her head hurt, her imagination was running wild with different scenarios of Horvath attacking Balthazar, each worse than the last.

She shook her head, forcefully dispelling her thoughts as pain throbbed through her skull. There once was a time when she could have predicted Horvath's moves with greater accuracy than the man himself. But now, with over a thousand years of loneliness, heartache and sorrow separating them, she wasn't so sure anymore. Then again, she would have never imagined he would have sided with Morgana for any reason, so perhaps she didn't know him even then as well as she had believed.

Lost in her thoughts, she jumped at an unexpected series of beeps. It took her a moment to realize it was the tone signaling she had a 'text message' on her phone and she glanced around the room, trying to remember where it was. She spotted it on the dresser and, after a moment's deliberation, hauled herself to her feet. The pounding in her head increased substantially and she closed her eyes, just focusing on her breathing. After the pain receded to a more manageable level, she stumbled to the dresser, retrieving the phone and flipping it open. The text was from Balthazar.

"At the store. Checking out. Be home soon."

Balthazar was just checking in. Veronica returned to the bed, relief washing over her. Although Balthazar was still vulnerable and there was still plenty of time for Horvath to do something, the fact that he hadn't pounced as soon as Balthazar was alone was promising. He either wasn't ready to set whatever plans he'd made in motion, he didn't know where Balthazar was...or he wasn't coming after Balthazar after all. Whatever the reason, she breathed a bit easier, closing her eyes and letting her thoughts drift (as much as she could with the headache demanding attention) as she waited for him to return.

When she next opened her eyes, it was significantly darker in the room. She blinked, staring at the ceiling as she tried to ignore the throbbing pain long enough to figure out why that was important. She brought her hand up to massage her aching head and discovered she was still holding her phone. Everything clicked in place and she realized that she had fallen asleep. She glanced toward the window, realizing that Balthazar should have been back by now. He knew how worried she was. Wouldn't he have woken her up when he returned? Fear gripped her as she got up and quickly checked the kitchen and living room. He wasn't there. She checked the guest room, bathroom and even pulled down the stairs to the attic, but Balthazar wasn't in the apartment.

Her anxiety was making her head pound even worse as she headed down the stairs to the shop. She almost sagged against the wall in relief when she heard his voice.

"I'm not sure why you came here," Balthazar was saying, "but if she's really as eccentric as you say, then I just might have what you're looking for."

Veronica finished descending the stairs, turning the corner as Balthazar put a blood-colored, heart-shaped glass jar on the counter.

"This jar held the hearts of Antony and Cleopatra for a thousand years," Balthazar explained. "Until they turned to dust, at any rate."

A young man with a blue mohawk and more piercings than any one person ought to have looked over the jar with obvious interest. "Seriously?" he asked, picking it up and turning it over. Although it was difficult to see through the dark glass, he could just make out a small pile of dust sliding around within it.

"Seriously," Balthazar replied.

"That's cool," the young man laughed, smiling. "She'll love it!"

Veronica waited for Balthazar to complete the transaction. When he had finished, he turned to head back upstairs, raising one eyebrow when he saw her standing there. "Feeling any better?" he asked.

Veronica considered for a moment. "Not really," she admitted. "I was worried when you were not in the apartment."

"Sorry," he apologized, leading her back up the stairs. "You were finally sleeping, so I didn't want to wake you."

She sighed, shaking her head. "What was so important that it could not wait until tomorrow?" she asked as they headed back into the bedroom.

Balthazar moved over to the dresser, picking up a small bottle next to a glass of water that she hadn't noticed before. "These," he said, shaking a couple orange pills into his palm, "are called painkillers." He offered her the pills and the glass of water. "Hopefully, they should get rid of your headache."

Veronica sat on the edge of the bed, not truly surprised his urgent trip to the store had been on her behalf. Miserable as she was, she didn't think it was dire enough to risk a confrontation with Horvath over. Her head throbbed painfully and she hissed, taking the pills and swallowing them dry. "I'm not sure whether I should kiss you or slap you," she muttered, accepted the glass of water and downing it in one shot. She glanced at him, her lips quirking in a mischievous grin. "Maybe both- just to be safe."

Balthazar chuckled, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "The medication should help, but try to get some rest. I'm going to lock up the shop."

Veronica laid back on the bed, closing her eyes. She blindly groped around until she found the icepack he had brought her earlier, plopping it over her forehead even though it had long since melted. She groaned softly, desperately hoping that the wretched headache would be gone the next time she woke.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	6. Chapter 6

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 6**

"It's not that I mind watching you," Balthazar commented, directing his words to the bulldog ambling along behind him. "Although Dave may not think so, I do appreciate that he has a life outside of magic and make allowances for that. The fact that I'm watching you for the weekend while he goes home for his mother's birthday should be proof enough." He adjusted the strap holding the heavy bag on his shoulder, turning onto the street where the Arcana Cabana was. "But, is it really too much to ask that he drop you off instead of having me go pick you up? It's not exactly just a short romp around the block, after all."

Tank slowed to a stop by a hydrant, sniffing it curiously before deciding that was a great place to relieve himself. Balthazar sighed, waiting until the dog was done and shifting the heavy bag to the opposite shoulder before tugging gently on the leash to prompt Tank to keep walking. The dog did so with some reluctance.

"Keep moving," Balthazar said, glancing down at his current walking partner. "We're almost there."

The Phantom was sitting in its usual spot right outside the store and Balthazar paused, looking down at his car a little sadly. "It would be so much easier if I could start you myself," he muttered, placing his hand on the hood. "But, Veronica doesn't know nearly enough about cars to be able to alter that spell and Dave..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, a physics nerd does not a mechanic make." He turned away from the car, heading up the front steps and unlocked the door before stepping inside. The dog seemed unusually interested in more than a few items as Balthazar headed towards the stairs in the back. "If you pee on anything in my shop, you're going to be castrated and banished to the basement," he warned, leading Tank up to the apartment before removing the leash. The dog happily collapsed onto the carpet, panting.

Balthazar dropped the bag next to the recliner, stretching his tired muscles before rummaging through it until he found the dog's food and water bowls. He pushed himself back to his feet and headed into the kitchen. He paused just inside the doorway, blinking in surprise. Veronica and Becky were both there, putting groceries away. "You're back early," Balthazar stated.

"Are we?" Veronica asked lightly, turning her back to him as she put a few items in the fridge. "I hadn't noticed."

Becky gave her a strange look, but didn't comment.

A soft smile lit Balthazar's features while filled one of the dog's bowls with water at the sink. "So, what's on the menu for tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Well, we were going to do bread bowls, but we seem to have forgotten the bread," Becky said, giving Veronica another strange look. "So, we'll just be doing soup, instead."

"Sounds good to me," Balthazar said, heading back into the other room.

Tank had flopped onto his side, looking quite content to lie there for the rest of the night. Arista had noticed their new guest and was cautiously approaching him, sniffing curiously. Tank raised his head and she hissed at him, shooting across the room and almost knocking the lamp off the end table as she jumped from it to the top of the bookcase. When Tank didn't react to her flight except to lie down once more, she warily made her way back down to the floor, sniffing him again. Becoming a bit braver, Arista batted at his muzzle with one paw. Tank just sighed, sending Arista running once more, although she only ran to the back of the couch this time.

"Well, either Dave was right about you tolerating cats well," Balthazar stated, pulling a few more items from the bag, "or that walk tired you out more than I thought." He shrugged, taking the bag of dog food to the kitchen. "Arista and Tank seem to be getting off to a good start," he announced, filling Tank's bowl.

"That's good," Veronica replied. "I would not like to have to lock him in the basement for the next two days."

"Wasn't Dave planning on bringing Tank over in the morning?" Becky asked.

"He was," Balthazar said, clearing a spot for the bag of dog food in the cupboard. "But his ride decided to leave tonight instead of tomorrow, so Dave called and asked if I could pick up Tank early." He rolled the top of the bag of dog food closed and shoved it into the cupboard, making sure the door closed all the way so Tank couldn't get into it. "Apparently, the guy's allergic to dogs, so they couldn't just drop Tank off on their way out of town."

"Oh."

"I'm going to go close the shop," he said, heading back to the living room. Tank hadn't moved, still lying on his side while Arista had retreated to higher ground. Although she seemed to be removing the dog from the 'threat' category, it was clear that she was planning on keeping an eye on him, just the same. Tank couldn't seem to care less.

Balthazar chuckled at the pair, shaking his head as he headed for the stairs. "At least Marvin will be happy to get a break from the cat for a couple days."

**. . . **

Dave grumbled as he walked through the pouring rain, his collar turned up against the deluge. Forgetting his umbrella was just par for the course the way his day was going. His steps quickened when the Arcana Cabana came into sight and he shook as much water off his jacket as he could before stepping inside. He wasn't planning on staying so he didn't bother taking off his coat, heading for the stairs. Balthazar met him at the counter.

"Hello, Dave," the older sorcerer drawled. "You know, when you said you were going to be late, I assumed you meant around 10:00, maybe 11:00 pm last night," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Not this morning." He took a moment to look his errant apprentice up and down. "Rough night?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You have _no _idea," Dave groaned, leaning tiredly against the counter.

"Why don't you enlighten me."

Dave sighed. "Brian decided last minute that he wanted to come back a couple hours later than what he had planned initially," he began. "That's when I texted you, saying I'd be late. A couple hours after _that_, he finally showed up to pick me up. Said he'd lost track of the time." Dave shook his head. "The rain was really coming down so he was driving slow, which actually turned out to be a good thing. I didn't even see the elk until we were practically right on top of it. Brian didn't hit it- it probably would have tripped over the hood and came in through the windshield -but the road was slippery and we ended up running off it when he hit the brakes and swerved. There weren't many trees on the embankment, but we ended up on top of a pretty good-sized rock at the bottom instead. Neither of us were hurt, but the engine was busted. Fortunately, he had a flashlight in his car, so we didn't have to stumble around in the darkness as we hiked back to the road. I was actually surprised by how far off it we had gone."

"Sounds like you're both lucky to escaped unscathed," Balthazar commented.

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "Anyway, we just _happened _to be in one of the only dead spots on that stretch of road and _of course _we hadn't seen anyone else in the last hour or so. That meant we had to climb up the hill on the other side of the road to get service, which we did. Luckily, we didn't have to climb all the way, and I was going to call you and explain what had happened, but my phone died. Brian still had half a battery, but I don't have you number memorized. Anyway, he has one of those insurance plans where you have to call them when anything happens and he had the number on his phone. What he _didn't _have was the policy number. The guy he was talking to said it was on the insurance card, which was still in the car. So, we hiked back down to the car and tried to find the insurance card. It wasn't there. So, we hiked _back _up to where we had reception and called his parents. They looked it up online and gave us all the information we would hopefully need and then we called the insurance company again. Did I mention it was still raining the whole time?"

"I'm sure you've heard the saying 'when it rains, it pours.'" Balthazar said, smiling.

"That's the truth," Dave agreed, shifting so he could support his head with one hand. "The only thing that would have made the night even _better _would have been if we ran into that elk again. We didn't- I don't even want to think about what would have happened then," Dave said, shuddering. "Anyway, I finally got home sometime between 3:00 and 4:00 this morning. Slept through my alarm, Bennet woke me up half an hour before my 7:00 class and I managed to get there only a few minutes late. It was just review- at least, I _hope _it was, because I'm pretty sure I slept through the second half of it." He shook his head. "I completely forgot about Tank until about twenty minutes ago. And my phone's still dead- I forgot to plug it in when I finally got home this morning."

Balthazar chuckled, both at the story and at the pathetic picture his apprentice made as he practically laid across the counter. "Come sit down before you fall over," he said, gesturing to the stool on his side of the counter. "I'll go get your dog."

Balthazar headed up the stairs, finding Tank waiting by the door at the top. The dog darted past before he could stop him, bounding down the steps with more energy than the sorcerer would have thought possible. Shaking his head, Balthazar quickly gathered up everything Dave had sent with him, packing it back into the bag. He briefly explained the situation to Veronica before heading back down to the shop.

Dave had taken his advice and moved to sit on the stool. Tank was on his hind legs, front paws on Dave's thigh as his little stub of a tail wiggled madly.

"I've never seen him so energetic," Balthazar commented, moving over to his apprentice.

"Yeah. I guess he missed me," Dave said, scratching the dog's ears. His gaze wandered to the windows at the front of the store and the downpour visible beyond. His shoulders slumped slightly at the thought of walking home through that.

Balthazar almost laughed at how pitiful Dave looked. "In light of recent events, I'm giving you today off. I expect you to be rested and ready to learn tomorrow." He almost laughed again at how fast Dave's expression went from dejected to stunned to grateful. The kid was an open book on the best of days. When he was tired, it was like watching a kaleidoscope of emotions. "Come on," Balthazar said, clapping the youth on his shoulder. "I'll drive you home."

**. . . **

"Again," Balthazar intoned dispassionately, watching his apprentice with a bored expression.

Dave groaned. "Balthazar, we've been at this for _hours_," he said, his voice rising dangerously close to a whine. "I was close that time! Can't we call it day?"

"Close isn't good enough, Dave," Balthazar stated, shaking his head. It wasn't that difficult of a spell. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the empty soda can from the edge of the chalk circle drawn on the tabletop, handing it back to Dave. "Now, focus. Feel the can in your hand, picture the circle in your mind with the can inside it."

Dave sighed, closing his eyes as he tried the teleportation spell yet again. He felt the slight weight of the can disappear and opened his eyes. The can was lying on the table, half inside the chalk circle. Balthazar sighed.

"Come on! I almost made it in that time! Doesn't that count?"

"Almost isn't going to cut it. A gun that _almost _appears in your hand will do little to protect you."

"Bet a plasma bolt would be more effective, anyway," Dave muttered.

"It's about having options, Dave," Balthazar explained. "You might find yourself in a situation where this spell is much more useful than a plasma bolt. If you need to be discreet, for example."

Dave's eyes widened incredulously. "How could a gun suddenly _appearing _in your hand _possibly _be considered discreet?"

"It's considerably less noticeable than a glowing orb of energy between your palms," Balthazar countered. "If you can move your hand out of sight, or create some sort of distraction, people will assume you had the gun hidden somewhere on your person."

Dave's reply was cut off as the bell chimed, indicated someone had entered the shop. "That must be Becky," he said, starting to rise. "I'm taking her to lunch today."

"Or it could be Veronica," Balthazar pointed out. "Sit down. Do it again."

Muttering under his breath about slave drivers, Dave plopped back down in his chair. He snatched the can from the table, not concentrating quite as much as he should as he tried the spell again. The can clattered noisily on the floor a couple feet to his left.

Balthazar pinch the bridge of his nose, exhaling harshly as his face drew down in an irritated scowl.

Dave was saved as the bell chimed a second time. "That _has _to be Becky," he said, trying to pre-empt his master's chastisement.

The older sorcerer sighed in resignation. "We won't accomplish anything as long as you aren't focused," he said, getting to his feet and moving his chair off to the side of the room and out of the Merlin Circle. "We'll continue this later. Perhaps Veronica can show you how practical this spell is after you get back."

Although Dave winced slightly at the thought of more training with the sorceress, he helped his master carry the heavy table back to the side of the room, moving his chair over to it afterward and hurrying after Balthazar.

The older sorcerer ignored Dave's suddenly energetic attitude as the college student followed him up the stairs. Balthazar paused at the top as an unfamiliar voice reached his ears.

"I'm just trying to figure out what happened," the man said, his voice placating.

"I have already given you an accounting of the events. The man assaulted us with a knife, then left," Veronica replied, her voice carefully neutral. Balthazar recognized the tone as one she used when concealing her fear.

The man huffed in irritation. "You still left out where the fire came from."

"I do not recall any fire."

"Look my partner and I were down the street a ways, but we both saw the gout of flame quite clearly."

Balthazar stepped into the doorway of the store, taking in the scene with a glance. Veronica stood towards the front of the shop, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. Becky stood next to and a little behind her, looking a bit nervous as her eyes darted between Veronica and the man facing them. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform, the golden emblem on his hat, sleeves and the breast pocket of his navy blue jacket identifying him as a member of New York City's finest. He mirrored Veronica's stance, although where she was leaning back, he had pressed forward, subtly changing it from a defensive to an offensive position. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance and suspicion, clearly growing tired of her obstinate attitude. The two parties faced off, perpendicular to the entrance at the back of the shop. Neither noticed the sorcerer standing in the doorway.

Thinking quickly, Balthazar ducked back through the doorway pulling Dave with him. "Practice time's over," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're mastering that spell now."

Dave looked at his master like the man had lost his mind. "What?" he asked, keeping his voice as quiet as his master's.

"Walk over to Rebecca casually," Balthazar continued, ignoring Dave's interruption. "Discreetly put your hand in her purse and find the mini bottle of hairspray she keeps in there. Then, use the spell and move it to Veronica's purse."

"_What?" _Dave's voice had a bit more of a startled squeak to it this time.

"Do it," Balthazar hissed, reaching into his pocket as he ushered Dave back into the shop and headed towards the girls at an easy pace. "What's going on?" he asked, drawing everyone's attention as he moved to Veronica's side. She looked up at him, relief warring with concern in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" the officer asked.

"Balthazar Blake," Balthazar introduced himself, putting his arm around Veronica as he tracked Dave's progress in his peripheral vision. "This is my wife."

"Officer Briggs," the policeman returned, nodding to the sorcerer. "It seems that someone tried to mug your wife a few minutes ago and I'm trying to figure out how she defended herself." His eyes slid back over to Veronica. "She's being a little less than cooperative."

Balthazar glanced at Veronica's dark eyes once more, easily seeing the apology within as well as the plea for help. "If it was in self defense, I'm sure you won't be punished for it," he stated, glancing at the officer for confirmation. He saw Dave withdraw his hand from Becky's purse out of the corner of his eye.

Officer Briggs nodded. "I'm just trying to get all the details of what happened," he explained.

Balthazar nodded, turning back to Veronica. Her brow was furrowed ever so slightly in confusion. "It's alright, beloved," he assured her, palming the lighter in his pocket as he withdrew his hand and gently took her purse from her. "She doesn't like to use mace," he explained, keeping his profile to the officer as he opened the bag and reached inside. A quick feel around the inside did not yield the item he was looking for and he made a show of peering inside as he moved things around, stalling for time. He reflexively clenched his teeth in annoyance at the loud _clang _of metal on the tile floor.

"Oops," Balthazar said, a carefully mild expression on his face as he bent down to pick up the small can of hairspray. He could see Dave cringe in his peripheral. Ignoring his apprentice for now, Balthazar held the can in one hand as he made a show of routing through the purse a few seconds longer before 'finding' the lighter and showing both items to the officer. "It's not really effective as a weapon, but sometimes the surprise is all you need to get away," he explained, keeping his voice casual.

The officer stared at the lighter and hairspray skeptically for a few seconds before nodding. "I think mace would be easier to use, but fire would definitely give you the element of surprise," he agreed. He turned back to Veronica, his posture almost visibly stiffening. "And, neither you, nor Ms. Barnes, wish to press charges, correct?" he verified, his polite tone sounding rather forced.

Veronica shook her head, keeping her eyes on the officer instead of tracking Balthazar's hand as he 'replaced' the items in her purse.

"Alright. Thank you for your time," Officer Briggs droned, tipping his hat to the ladies out of reflex before turning to exit the shop. They could hear him muttering softly under his breath as he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

Veronica let out a sigh as the door latched, closing her eyes as her shoulders slumped. She raised her hands, covering her face.

Balthazar pulled her into his arms, holding her gently. She returned the embrace, her entire body trembling.

"I'm sorry, my love," she apologized, a bit breathless from the adrenaline coursing through her system. "I was caught off guard by the cutpurse and reacted without thought. Then, when the officer started questioning my actions, all I could think about was the witch-hunts and the Inquisition..." She shook her head. "I should have exercised more caution..."

Balthazar shushed her, stroking her hair soothingly. "It's alright, beloved," he said again. "Do not fret over as trifling a matter as this." He held her for a while longer, feeling her tremors subside as she calmed. "Although, if you're going to make a habit of this," he continued, tone gently teasing as his mouth quirked up in a half smile, "it probably isn't a bad idea to acquire and lighter and a can of hairspray to keep in your purse."

Veronica pulled back slightly, studying his face. She tried to return his smile, but hers was much more strained. "How did you manage to place the items?" she asked. "The bottle is too large to completely conceal in your hand and I am certain we do not have its like anywhere in the shop." She paused, a little amusement lightening the remnants of fear on her face. "Although, you are generally not prone to such clumsiness. Were you as nervous as I, despite your reassuring words?"

Balthazar's brows drew down into a disapproving scowl as he looked at Dave. "That was Dave," he said, noting his apprentice wouldn't meet his eyes. "Apparently, he's not ready to move on from this spell yet. It was _supposed _to end up _inside _your purse, not _outside _it." Balthazar shook his head, turning his gaze back to his wife. "Fortunately, it didn't appear where the officer could see. _That _would have been a little more difficult to explain."

Dave kept silent, biting his lip as he stared at the ground. Becky squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Is there anything more to be done about this?" Veronica asked, still sounding a bit apprehensive as she looked up into her husband's eyes.

"Did you burn the man trying to rob you?" Balthazar asked.

Veronica shook her head. "I may have singed his eyebrows, but I was aiming to frighten, not injure."

Balthazar nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Then, it should be fine," he said soothingly. "You need not worry." He turned his gaze to the blonde clinging to Dave's arm. "Are you alright, Rebecca?" he asked. "I understand this isn't the first time someone has accosted you in public."

"It is going to make me a little paranoid," she admitted, her voice a little shaky. "I'm lucky Dave was there the first time and Veronica was with me today. It was just a fluke that I saw her heading out of the subway terminal on my way here."

Balthazar nodded. "Come upstairs," he invited, his arm staying around Veronica's shoulders as he headed toward the staircase up to their apartment. "Some tea will help calm your nerves."

The group moved upstairs, Balthazar putting a kettle on to boil while Veronica and Becky sat on the couch. Dave followed his master to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Balthazar," Dave said meekly.

"It's not your fault." Balthazar didn't turn around, pulling teacups and saucers from the cupboard.

Dave blinked. "Uh, you trusted me to do something and I messed up," he said slowly. "How is that _not _my fault?"

"You managed to move the can right to the edge and even straddling the circle on the table," Balthazar said, getting his tea mixture out of the cupboard. "I thought you weren't trying hard enough and required a bit more motivation. Now, I see that I was mistaken."

Dave cringed at the disappointment in his master's voice, slight though it was. "Balthazar, I'm sorry, I-"

"You don't need to apologize, Dave," Balthazar cut him off. "The fault was mine. I overestimated your abilities and almost made the situation worse." He sighed, opening another cupboard and pulling out a couple packages of different tea biscuits. "Just be glad it worked out and let it lie."

Balthazar wasn't blaming him. There wasn't even the slightest bit of accusation in his voice. However, even though the man claimed full responsibility for the mistake, Dave couldn't help but feel he had lost a measure of his master's trust. This wasn't the first time Balthazar had trusted him with an important task. But, it was the first time Dave had let him down. He couldn't help the feeling of bitter failure that washed over him. Thus distracted by his thoughts, he didn't see the apple until it smacked his forehead. "Ow!" he yelped, jerking backwards and putting a hand to his head. "What was _that _for?!" he demanded, glaring from the offending fruit rolling languidly across the floor to his master's back.

Balthazar didn't bother turning around, arranging a variety of biscuits on a plate although the fruit bowl on the counter was noticeably closer to him. "I told you before that love was a distraction," he stated, his voice sounding almost bored. "Self-incrimination is equally distracting, if not more so. _I _made the mistake. It doesn't happen often, but when it does..." He let his voice trail off, shaking his head. "You have enough to worry about without picking up my slack, as well. This wasn't your fault. Just let it lie."

Dave wasn't convinced and silently vowed to put more effort into his training. Although it should have been obvious, it wasn't until today that he realized just how much Balthazar would have to rely on him if something magical came up and Veronica was unable to take care of it for whatever reason. Dave was determined not to let him down again, to prove that he was still worthy of his master's trust. However, knowing how Balthazar would view the source of this new resolution and wanting to avoid more fruit to the head in the immediate future, Dave decided to change the subject.

"What else would you have done?" Dave asked, actually curious. "If you had decided I wasn't ready?"

"Come up with something else," Balthazar said, shrugging dismissively. "There is more than one solution to any problem, Dave."

"Such as?" Dave pressed.

"Create a distraction, or let you be the distraction while I placed the items in Veronica's purse. It didn't have to be the hairspray- most aerosols would work. I chose that because I don't have any travel size bottles in the apartment," Balthazar replied easily. "It'd be more convincing than someone keeping a full sized bottle in a purse."

Dave blinked, a bit surprised by the ready answer. "How do you do it?" he asked at last.

Balthazar turned around, regarding his apprentice with a raised eyebrow. "I had no idea you had an interest in sleight-of-hand, Dave. I'd recommend against it as a career choice- coordination aside, you need to be able to lie convincingly."

Dave shook his head, waving aside his master's teasing comments. "That's not what I meant. It's just that, well, I heard the same thing you did, coming up from the basement, and I saw what was going on in the store at the same time as you. Yet, you already had a plan and were starting to put it in motion about the time I was thinking, 'Oh crap, this is bad.'" He looked up, meeting his master's gaze. "How do you do it?"

"Practice," Balthazar answered, shrugging again. He turned back to the counter. "And, after a few life or death battles where you're outnumbered three to one, you learn to think on your feet and you learn to do it fast."

"But-"

"I told you that your ingenuity and your heart will give you an advantage over Morganians," Balthazar began, moving the whistling kettle off the heat as he added the crushed herbs. "But, they will also serve you well in all aspects of your life, once you learn to utilize them."

"And, how do you do that? Without the life or death battles, I mean."

"Always be mindful of what's around you. Think of not one, but three solutions to any problem you encounter. Master as many different and varied spells as you can to give yourself more options," Balthazar stated, a half-smirk tugging at his lips.

Dave nodded solemnly, already planning on doing just that. Although the practical use may not always be obvious, he knew Balthazar didn't teach him superfluous spells.

The half-smirk faded as Dave failed to make the expected complaint. He was still obviously upset about the botched translocation spell. Balthazar withheld a sigh, trying to think of how he was going to overcome this new obstacle. "Learn to think outside the box," he advised, pulling a tray from one of the lower cupboards.

"You mean more so than just adding magic into the equation?" Dave asked wryly.

"Of course." Balthazar carefully placed the tea, cups and plate of biscuits on the tray. "But, for now, you need to think about how to convince the young lady sitting on the couch that all muggers in New York aren't out to get her." He picked up the tray, handing it to Dave and waving him towards the other room. "I'll see to lunch. After that, we'll begin working on protective charms."

**. . . **

Dave took a seat on the train, only half paying attention to his surroundings. He had forgotten about the test today in his Advanced Software Engineering class and was hurriedly skimming through his notes. He had roughly twenty minutes until his stop and he intended to make the most of it. Thus distracted, he was only peripherally aware of someone taking the seat next to him until the person spoke.

"Hello, Dave," a familiar, faintly accented voice drawled, the words soft but smooth as they flowed off his tongue.

Dave jumped, startled. Papers were crumpled in his hands as his head whipped to the side. "Horvath!" he cried, all the different possible reasons for the man's presence on the train racing through his mind. Was he after Merlin's ring again? Was Becky all right? Was he here for revenge for Dave's role in Morgana's defeat? Had he been following Dave? If so, did he know where Balthazar was? Or that he had lost his magic? Had he already taken care of Balthazar and was now here for Dave? Having witnessed several magical fights between the two older sorcerers, Dave knew that he wouldn't stand a chance against Horvath.

Recognizing the beginnings of panic (and remembering Becky's comment about paranoia), Dave took a deep breath and released it slowly, focusing on clearing his mind as Balthazar had taught him, although he didn't dare take his eyes off Horvath. "What do you want?" he asked after a moment, surprised at how steady his voice came out.

Horvath smiled predatorily, looking as if he had read Dave's mind and was amused by his thoughts. "I was just wondering how Balthazar is enjoying life without his magic," he said, his tone casual with just a bit of glee in it.

Dave couldn't help the flinch as a wave of anxiety washed over him. "What makes you think he's lost his magic?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Horvath's smile widened. "He didn't tell you? Well, I suppose I shouldn't _really _be surprised," he commented, nonchalantly examining his fingernails. "After all, we've already established that he likes to keep his secrets. Or, perhaps it's a matter of trust? I can't say that I blame him, after what _you _did..."

Dave was being baited and he knew it. However, Horvath also had a point. Balthazar had all but conned Dave into becoming his apprentice without telling him anything about Morgana, the Prime Merlinian, the Grimhold, or even Merlinians and Morganians. He tended to keep important information to himself until he was forced to reveal it. The fact that Horvath was all too eager to share it meant that it had to be bad.

Against his better judgment, Dave took the bait. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Tell me, did Balthazar ever get around to telling you how a sorcerer loses his powers?" Horvath asked, glancing at Dave out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," Dave said, his brows furrowing in confusion. "By being electrocuted."

"Technology has improved so much over the centuries. You can't go anywhere these days without finding electricity," Horvath mused, a smirk playing about his lips. "Even places designed to replicate nature, such as parks, are rife with _power cords _carrying electricity here and there." He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "I had planned on conducting a study one day of exactly how much electricity is needed to make a sorcerer lose his powers, but I suppose now I can just ask Balthazar. Most sorcerers avoid using any attacks involving electricity unless there is no other option because if they make a mistake it could cost them their magic."

Dave was still confused. Balthazar hadn't been electrocuted that night. Dave had pulled the power cords from the maintenance shed behind Morgana, sending them to all the lamps circling the fountain, but none came close to his master. Balthazar had fallen after protecting Veronica from Morgana's plasma bolt... Plasma. Plasma was electricity. He knew this, he worked with it everyday with his Tesla coils. But, was a plasma bolt by itself enough to strip a sorcerer of his powers? It had been enough to stop Balthazar's heart... Dave's eyes widened in sudden understanding. He had used plasma bolts to restart his master's heart. Even if Morgana's attack hadn't taken Balthazar's magic, Dave had certainly sealed the deal when he resuscitated him.

"Quite an accomplishment, I must say- you, in your ignorance, have managed to do something many others have tried to do and failed over the long centuries," Horvath said, smiling cruelly as he stood. "Congratulations. I'm sure your master is very proud." The train lurched to a stop and he joined the throng exiting the car. "Give Balthazar my regards," he called over his shoulder, quickly becoming lost in the crowd. "I do hope to see him again soon."

Dave didn't notice, his mind still reeling with the possibility that _he _had been the one responsible for the loss of Balthazar's magic. No, that couldn't be true. Balthazar may withhold information, but he had never outright lied to Dave. Balthazar said that exhaustion and shock had caused his loss of magic. Why should Dave believe Horvath, who had tried to kill him (and almost succeeded) more than once, over Balthazar who seemed to have Dave's best interests at heart, even if he didn't always show it? No, Horvath was lying- he had to be. He must have some ulterior motive- perhaps driving a wedge between the master and his apprentice to try and get Dave out of the way so it was only Veronica who stood between him and Balthazar. Yes, that must be it. It was just a Morganian trick.

A small traitorous part of his mind pointed out that what Horvath said was entirely possible. When teaching him to create a plasma bolt, Balthazar himself had basically said it was a weapon of last resort. Dave hadn't thought to ask why. If plasma bolts really could take a sorcerer's power... Then Dave had turned the oldest sorcerer in the world into nothing more than a civilian with a flashing neon target on his back. The only way to find out for sure would be to ask Balthazar directly.

Dave quailed at the thought. Penchant for withholding information not withstanding, Balthazar was almost brutally honest whenever asked a question. He wouldn't sugarcoat it, and he wouldn't lie. Asking him directly was the easiest way to solve the problem. But, Dave admitted to himself, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer.

The train seemed to be more crowded than usual, so Dave got off at the next stop. He exited the subway terminal on autopilot, too consumed by his thoughts to pay any attention to where he was going. It wasn't until a strong gust of wind almost ripped away the papers still clutched in his hand that he realized he was standing on the balcony of the Chrysler building. He blinked, only mildly alarmed that he didn't actually remember coming up here. Usually the lab was where he went when he needed to clear his head.

Dave couldn't say how long he stayed up there, feeling the wind buffeting his skin as he mulled over the what Horvath had revealed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, seeing he had an incoming call. It was Balthazar.

Dave's first panicked thought was that his master had some how found out about his meeting with Horvath and he was in big trouble. His second, more rational thought was that his first thought was absurd. There was no feasible way Balthazar could have found out about it short of Horvath himself informing Balthazar of such and Dave didn't actually do anything wrong to be punished for. The third was a realization that if he ignored Balthazar's call without a good reason, he really _would _be in trouble.

Taking a deep breath, he flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Dave." Balthazar's tone was calm, which didn't tell Dave much. It could be anything from the calm before the storm to nothing more than a social call inviting he and Becky to dinner. "Where are you?" Balthazar continued.

Dave glanced around, toying with the idea of lying but immediately discarding it. Balthazar would be able to tell and it'd only make him look that much more guilty. "...the Chrysler building," he said quietly.

"And, where are you supposed to be?"

Dave blinked, completely taken off guard. He glanced at his watch, eyes widening in surprise. How had it gotten to be so late already? "...the Arcana Cabana," he answered, his voice even quieter.

"Is everything alright?" Balthazar asked, his calm tone changing subtly. There was just a touch of concern in it now.

"No. I mean, yes! I mean-" Dave sighed, starting to run a hand through his hair before he noticed he was still clutching his papers in it. "I just lost track of the time, I guess," he answered at length, dropping his gaze to the ground.

There was a short pause. "Alright," Balthazar said after a moment. "Then I'll see you in a few minutes." There was a _click _as Balthazar hung up.

Dave stared at the phone for a few seconds before slowly returning it to his pocket. He really didn't want to face Balthazar right now. He was horrible at lying and even worse at keeping secrets, especially when he was feeling guilty about it. If Balthazar asked, Dave would probably end up blurting out everything, which would in turn lead to the question about Balthazar's magic. The more he thought about it, the more Dave really didn't want to know the answer.

Dave glanced over at the steel eagle perched on the corner of the balcony. He was already late, but could reach the Arcana Cabana much faster if he got a ride from the bird. Of course, he wasn't exactly eager to get there tonight, nor would Balthazar approve. It was still daylight and the eagle wasn't exactly low profile even at night. Sighing, Dave headed back to the elevator, noticing again the papers still clutched in his hand when he hit the button. He stared at them for a few seconds, realizing he had completely missed the test. With a shrug, he slipped them back into his bag. In light of everything else he had just learned, he couldn't bring himself to care about one missed test.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	7. Chapter 7

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 7**

Balthazar sighed, massaging his forehead with one hand. "You're not focusing, Dave."

Dave looked down at the unicorn figurine on the table. It was reared up on its hind legs, its front hooves pawing the air. "I got two legs to move that time," he stated quietly.

"Yes," Balthazar agreed. "But, two legs out of four, not to mention the head, body and neck, wouldn't be very helpful." He shook his head, pacing around the table. "Imagine you are on the steel eagle's back when the enchantment wears off and it starts plummeting to the ground. You would try to reanimate it, of course, but it won't be very useful if it can only flap one wing."

Dave blanched, having been considering riding the eagle not an hour previous. "That's not likely to happen, right?" he asked, a little nervously. "I mean, you were the one that put the spell on it initially and that urn was a couple centuries old and still working..."

"Two completely different types of magic, Dave."

"So, you're telling me the enchantment on the eagle could wear off at any time, sending whoever is riding it plummeting to the ground?" Dave asked, feeling a little sick at the thought.

Balthazar gave him a look. "I'm more careful with my magic than that," he said before pausing. "_Was _more careful, anyway," he amended, shaking his head. "But it's not a bad idea to run a magical diagnostic on anything you didn't enchant yourself."

Dave flinched at the reminder of his master's current magic-less state and the possibility that he was responsible for it.

Balthazar folded his arms, looking over Dave appraisingly. "Do you ride the eagle often?" he asked.

"No," Dave said, avoiding his master's gaze as he stared at the figurine.

Balthazar studied him for a moment longer, but didn't press the issue. "Remove the enchantment," he instructed. "And try it again."

Dave nodded. Disrupting the spell was much easier than setting it and the unicorn's front legs stopped moving almost immediately, returning to their original positions. Dave drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to clear his mind. He held his hand out in front of him as he focused on the figurine, his ring glowing. The green stone was only a few shades darker than Balthazar's ring and the glow was almost same when activated...at least, it had been, before Balthazar had lost his magic...before Dave had cost his master his magic... Dave's concentration slipped completely and he lowered his hand. The tail flicked once before going still.

Balthazar exhaled sharply through his nose. "Go home, Dave," he said, heading towards the stairs.

"What?" Dave asked, completely taken by surprise.

"As long as you're not focused, we're doing little more than wasting time." Balthazar paused at the foot of stairs, glancing back at Dave over his shoulder. "I don't know what's on your mind, but you need to work it out. Take tomorrow, do whatever you need to do, but make sure you're focused when you come back here on Thursday." With that, he disappeared up the stairs.

Dave groaned, dropping his head onto the table. He knew Balthazar was right- ever since he had gotten here, it seemed like everything kept reminding him of Balthazar's lack of magic and, by association, Dave's possible involvement in that. Balthazar lighting the candles by hand whereas before a flick of his fingers would have illuminated the room... His master dragging the heavy table across the floor when a simple wave of his hand had moved several Tesla coils back in the lab... Even the way Balthazar held his hands together when he rested them on the table, with his left over his right as if to stop himself from reflexively trying to fix whatever Dave had screwed up this time.

Balthazar was right. Dave wasn't focused. And he'd be useless until he figured out how to stop worrying about something that may or may not be his fault. He sighed, pushing himself off the table and trudging up the stairs. No one was in the shop and he headed for the door, pulling out his phone. He hesitated only for a moment before dialing Becky's number. He hoped she'd be able to help him.

Veronica walked down the hall, laundry basket in hand. She stopped when she saw Balthazar standing at the window in the living room. "It is far too early for Dave's training to finished for the day," she commented lightly. "What is on your mind?"

"It's not what's on my mind, but what's on Dave's mind that's the problem," Balthazar stated, letting the curtain fall back into place as he turned away. "Whatever it is, it's keeping him from focusing, so I sent him home."

"Did you not ask what was troubling him?"

Balthazar shook his head. "No. If he wanted to discuss it with me, he would have done so instead of brooding for the last hour." He moved to the recliner, sitting down. "I gave him tomorrow off to sort it out. Hopefully Rebecca will be able to help him."

Veronica didn't look like she completely agreed, but didn't press the issue. "Well, since your evening is now free, you can help me fold the laundry," she said, setting the laundry basket on the table.

Balthazar grimaced, but leaned forward and grabbed a shirt off the pile.

"You said Dave was troubled by his inability to perform the spell you were trying to teach him on Saturday, correct?" Veronica asked, matching the socks and setting them aside. "Perhaps that still weighs on his mind."

"Perhaps, but I doubt it," Balthazar said, pulling a pair of pants from the basket. "He talked to me about that right after it happened, and he didn't have problems focusing that afternoon- at least, any more than usual." He set the pants on the floor, grabbing another shirt. "Although, I've been meaning to ask you about that."

"About what?" Veronica asked, setting a skirt aside to be hung up later.

"About why you didn't just use a persuasive suggestion spell when the police officer started questioning you about the fire."

Veronica blinked. "Persuasive suggestion?" she repeated.

Balthazar paused, glancing at her with a speculative gaze. "Hm, perhaps I came across it after Horvath's betrayal," he mused. "Basically, you put someone into a type of trance, not really taking control of their mind, but robbing them of their free will. In that state, they will execute whatever commands you give them and have no memory of it afterward."

Veronica's hands stilled, a shirt half-folded on her lap. "That sounds more like something I would have learned from Morgana than from you, Balthazar," she said, quietly.

"Perhaps," Balthazar replied, his voice just as soft. "But in a world where magic doesn't officially exist, it's not always easy to come up with a plausible explanation for what you did." He paused, looking her in the eye. "Such as creating a fireball to scare away a mugger."

"I...suppose I can see the logic in that," Veronica said at length.

"The spell itself isn't evil. It's how you use it."

Veronica smiled slightly, recognizing one of Merlin's sayings. "Very well. I wish to learn this spell."

Balthazar nodded. "We'll finish up here and then move down the basement," he said, pulling another shirt from the dwindling pile left in the basket. "You can practice on me. It doesn't work on sorcerers," he hastened to assure her when she opened her mouth to protest, "but I should be able to at least tell you if you're doing it right."

Veronica nodded, turning her attention back to the laundry. Forcibly bending someone's will to her own didn't sit well with her at all, but she couldn't deny the usefulness of such a spell. She could have persuaded the police officer that nothing was amiss, or even stopped the mugger himself. It certainly seemed a much more subtle method than a gout of flame on a public street.

It wasn't long before the laundry was all folded and put away or hung up and they were headed down to the basement. Content of the spell aside, she was oddly eager for her first magical lesson in over 1000 years.

**. . . **

Becky walked up to the fence, pulling the gate open and stepping inside. She didn't bother knocking at the door, letting herself in and heading down the metal steps into the old subway turnaround. Dave was sitting near the bottom of the lower staircase, just staring at the Tesla coils positioned around the room. He didn't look at her as she approached and sat next to him on the step.

"I'm sorry for calling you out here like this, Becky," he apologized. "I just...I needed someone to talk to."

Becky put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "What's wrong, Dave?"

"I..." Dave took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I think I may be responsible for making Balthazar lose his magic."

Becky blinked. That wasn't what she had been expecting. "Why do you think that?" she asked carefully.

"Well, I've been thinking about that night," Dave hedged. "I told you electrocution can make a sorcerer loose his power, right? Well, plasma is basically electricity and that night, I..." He shook his head, dropping it into his hands. "If Balthazar's magic really _is _gone, then it's all my fault."

Becky didn't know how to respond to that. She rubbed Dave's back, trying to offer him what comfort she could.

"You've never seen him perform magic," Dave went on. "There was just something about the way he did it... Everything was so effortless, even more so than Veronica. It was such an innate part of him..." He snorted derisively. "Of course, the man's been living and breathing magic for the last thousand years!" He shook his head again. "It's just... I think him loosing his magic is like loosing a limb. I mean, he used magic every day. Sure, loosing a leg won't kill you, but you'll still be on crutches or in a wheelchair for the rest of your life."

Becky nodded slowly, imagining how her life would be different with limited mobility.

"And to make things worse, he's still teaching me. It's like...I don't know, a cripple teaching someone gymnastics. I know it frustrates him only being able to _tell _me what he wants instead of _showing _me how to do it. I _still _can't make a barrier to repel solid objects. I just..." He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "I can't even imagine what it must be like, to be surrounded by magic everyday, to actually _teach _it to someone else, but not be able to do it himself." He opened his eyes, staring sadly at the Merlin Circle still etched into the stone floor. "And, I'm afraid that's exactly what I did to him."

They sat in silence for a few moments. "Have you talked to Balthazar about this?" Becky asked at length.

Dave gave a hollow laugh. "No," he said, vehemently shaking his head.

"Why not?" Becky asked. "Balthazar pretty much says whatever's on his mind- I'm sure you'd already know if he blamed you."

"Unless he doesn't realize it's my fault."

Becky looked a little skeptical at that. "Dave, you said it yourself- the guy lived and breathed magic for a thousand years. I'll bet he went through all the possible reasons his magic would've have been gone the moment he realized it. And, he told you what he thought the most likely causes were, right?"

"Yeah," Dave said a bit grudgingly. "But-"

"You're the one who's always complaining about his constant criticisms, how nothing you ever do seems good enough," Becky continued. "Do you really believe he would lie to spare your feelings if he thought you were to blame?"

"No," Dave admitted.

"There you go," Becky said, pausing for a moment to let that sink in before pressing on. "As for his magic... Well, if you lost your leg, would you want everyone around you to cut off their legs as well?"

"Of course not!" Dave exclaimed.

"Do you think Balthazar does?" she pressed.

Dave sighed. "No." He chuckled ruefully. "You make it sound like such a stupid thing to be worrying about when you put it like that."

Becky only smiled. "You don't even know if this is permanent or not. Balthazar's magic could still come back. You might _be _worrying over nothing."

Dave considered that for a moment. "You're right," he said. "If Balthazar really thought it was my fault, he would have said something about it- probably turned it into another lesson for me," he said, a small smile lighting his features. "Thanks, Becky."

"You're welcome," she said, giving him a hug which he readily returned. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm gonna go back," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

"It's a bit late to do that tonight," Becky said, checking her watch.

"Tomorrow, then," Dave said, nodding decisively. "Technically he gave me the day off, but on Saturday I realized how much he may have to rely on me, if Veronica was unable to help for whatever reason." He clenched his fist in determination. "I'm not gonna disappoint him again."

**. . . **

Wednesday afternoon found Dave walking down the street towards the Arcana Cabana. He reached the storefront, climbed the steps and had just put his hand on the doorknob when a voice stopped him.

"I gave you today off. Come back tomorrow," Balthazar said blandly.

Dave spun around, a bit startled to hear his master's voice so close on the seemingly deserted street. Balthazar was crouched behind the Phantom, a can of wax on the ground beside him as he rubbed a white cloth over the trunk. Dave shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "You said to come back when I was focused," he said.

Balthazar raised one curious eyebrow as he gave Dave an appraising look. There was a new rigidness in his shoulders and a determined gleam in his eye as he met Balthazar's gaze. "I suppose detailing the rims can wait," he stated, turning his attention back to the trunk. "Give me a few minutes to finish up here and I'll meet you in the basement."

Dave nodded, heading inside. The table and unicorn figurine were still where he had left them last night, so he turned his attention to lighting the candles throughout the room instead. He had just finished when Balthazar came down the stairs carrying a stack of books. He set them on the table along with a large ball of twine and several bags of balloons. Dave blinked at the odd items. "Um, aren't we gonna continue working on animating the statue?" he asked uncertainly.

"I realized last night that you should probably master this technique before you try to animate something like the steel eagles on the Chrysler building," Balthazar stated, moving the figurine to one of the shelves. "Do you remember when you enchanted the mops to clean the lab?" he asked.

Dave cringed slightly but nodded.

"Your Tesla coil was knocked over and was going to fall on top of you. Do you remember what it felt like when I caught you?" he asked.

"Uh, not really," Dave admitted, trying to think back. "I was kinda distracted."

Balthazar nodded, as if he'd expected as much. "What you didn't notice was that I was not holding you in the air, but your clothing."

Dave blinked. "...what? Why? How is that even possible?"

"A sorcerer's power comes from within. The energy you use to do magic is literally thrumming through your entire body," Balthazar explained. "Everyone has it, even though only a small percentage of the population can actually tap into it. And, as no two people are completely alike, no two energy signatures are the same. It is possible to alter the flow of your magic enough to sync with the current in someone else, but it is much more difficult, especially on a full-body scale. That's why most spells deal with altering things around the body instead of changing the body itself. Also, the flow of your energy changes when you divert from internal to external forces- essentially, when you it for magic. This means you should _never _cast any physically altering spells on your own body, unless you're trying for a possibly fatal backlash."

"Okay..." Dave said slowly, not truly understanding but willing to take Balthazar at his word on this. "So, what are we doing with the balloons?"

"You've become somewhat proficient in levitating items with a definite structure- books, chairs, tables, etc. With these items, it does not matter how you hold it, such as holding one leg of the chair as opposed to three. But, pliable items require a bit more skill. If you hold a flower by a leaf, it will break off and the flower will fall to the floor. Or, you can destroy it by gripping it too hard and snapping the stem or crushing the blossom itself. You have to hold the shape of the item you are levitating while supporting its weight, as well."

"That makes sense...I guess..." Dave said, staring at the items on the table.

"We'll start off with balloons first," Balthazar continued. "The shape is simple and relatively uniform. Once you can levitate a balloon tied to these books without popping it, we'll move on to flowers. Then to chain mail." He folded his arms, rubbing his chin pensively. "I might even be able to get a practice dummy at that point, so you can see what happens if you squeeze the shirt too hard."

"Balloons and flowers," Dave muttered, shaking his head. "Is this how you learned the spell?"

Balthazar met Dave's eyes, his face completely devoid of all emotion. "No. Merlin tossed me off the top of the tower and caught me right before I hit the ground. Then, he did it again. And again, and again, until I figured out how to do it myself," he deadpanned.

Dave chuckled at the mental picture. He stopped, eyes widening when Balthazar raised an eyebrow as if to ask what was funny about that. "Wait- you're not _serious_, are you?!"

Balthazar's only response was an enigmatic smile. He tossed a couple of the bags of balloons to Dave. "Better start blowing those up. You're going to be working on this technique for a while."

**. . . **

Becky knocked on the door of the Arcana Cabana, quickly folding her arms across her chest as an icy wind ruffled her clothes. It wasn't long before she saw an indistinct figure approach through the misted glass window. Balthazar nodded a greeting as he opened the door, stepping back to allow her into the warm building.

"Veronica's still upstairs," he explained, leading the way to the back of the shop.

"I came a little early because of the weather," Becky explained, following him up the stairs. "It's harder to get a taxi when the weather's bad."

"Yes, the wind has been picking up quite a bit in the last week," Balthazar agreed. "I have to say, it's my least favorite weather. I can handle being soaked from rain or buried in snow, but a cold wind cuts straight to the bone." He motioned Becky to sit in the living room. "I'll see if Veronica's ready yet."

"Thanks."

Balthazar nodded, walking down the hallway. "Beloved?" he called, tapping on the door to their room. "Rebecca is here."

"All right, please let her know I shall be with her presently," Veronica replied through the closed door.

Balthazar relayed the message to Becky as he returned to the living room, taking a seat across from her in the recliner when she declined something to drink.

"So, how's Dave's training going?" Becky asked, trying to fill the slightly awkward silence.

"Well, I gave him this week off for finals, as I'm sure you know," Balthazar said, pulling a pair of glasses from his pocket and slipping them on as he picked up the newspaper on the table next to him. "But he made a lot of progress last week. I've never seen him so driven to learn." Balthazar looked at Becky with a knowing smile. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Becky gave him her best innocent expression. "Nope, not a thing," she said, shrugging.

Balthazar chuckled but didn't press the issue, turning his attention back to the half-finished crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

Just then, Veronica joined them, her questioning eyes seeking out Balthazar. "Are you sure you do not wish to accompany us?" she asked.

"The novelty of a moving picture wore off several decades ago," Balthazar stated. "And, I can't say I've been too impressed with the storylines they've come up with as of late."

"Rebecca has assured me that this movie is one I will enjoy. I'm sure you would, as well."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "She's taking you to see a chick flick."

Veronica cocked her head to the side. "What does 'chick flick' mean?" she asked.

"The word 'chick' is a slang term to refer to woman and 'flick' is another word for movie," Balthazar explained. "Basically, is it movie geared towards women- a sappy love story brimming with drama. It is also known as the bane of man. By the way," he said, turning to Becky, "I assume you invited Dave?"

Becky nodded. "Yeah, but he said he had to study."

"Despite the fact that he took his last final today?" Balthazar asked, amused.

Becky shrugged. "He had a hard enough time coming up with that excuse that I didn't want to push him," she said, smiling.

Balthazar laughed. "I imagine he did," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You said it started at 8:30, right?"

"Yeah."

"You should probably head out soon."

"Yeah," Becky agreed, glancing at the clock as well as she stood from the couch. "You ready, Veronica?"

"Yes," she answered, walking over to Balthazar's chair. She leaned down, giving him a quick kiss. "I shall return later tonight."

"Have fun." His lips quirked in a teasing smile. "I know you have a lighter and a can of hairspray in your purse just in case, but try to stay _out _of trouble this time."

Veronica laughed over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs. "I shall try, my love."

Balthazar spent the evening catching up on his reading, finally finishing a book he had started ten years ago. He looked over his meager collection as he put it back with the others in the bookcase. His primarily nomadic lifestyle made the acquisition of things in general difficult. However, he had picked up a number of books in the last three or so centuries, leaving them wherever his current 'dump site' was. Unfortunately, most of the well-known titles were fairly early copies and, having some value, were lost when his stuff was put into storage ten years ago.

Remembering a book store he'd seen not too far from his shop, and not having any other plans for the next hour and a half until Veronica returned (or later, if she and Rebecca decided to get something to eat), he decided to walk down and look through their selection. He headed to the stairs, grabbing his keys from the table in the hall and chuckling softly as he noticed Veronica's phone lying next to them. He couldn't blame her for forgetting to carry it with her whenever she left. Half the time, he did as well.

The wind was cold, but his leather duster protected him from the worst of it and it only took him fifteen to twenty minutes to make it to the book shop. A little old lady behind the counter greeted him with a tired smile, informing him that the shop would be closing early today.

Understanding the need for a break, even if he didn't keep the most regular of store hours himself, Balthazar assured her he wouldn't be there long and asked about a few of the books he knew he was missing.

Five minutes later, Balthazar exited the store, carrying six new books in a bag. The wind hadn't let up any and he pulled his leather coat more tightly around himself as he made his way back to the Arcana Cabana. The sidewalks were virtually deserted, the late hour and cold wind having driven most of the populace inside. The lack of the usual crowd suited Balthazar just fine, although he took the long route back to avoid any dark alleys.

Balthazar was about halfway back to the store when blinding pain tore through his leg. He cried out, the surprise attack catching him completely off-guard as he staggered another step or two before falling to the ground, writhing. He dropped the bag of books as his left hand reflexively went to the source of the pain. His gasping breaths hitched as he felt the cylindrical tube protruding from his thigh, the downy feathers on the end cementing his fear.

Already knowing it was too late, Balthazar clenched his teeth together and jerked the tranquilizer dart from his leg, gasping as he did so. He tried to climb back to his feet, but his thigh violently protested the movement and he was unable to rise. Cursing mentally, he scanned the street, seeing many places to hide in darkened doorways and behind cars but unable to locate his attacker.

A quick search of his pockets yielded his cell phone and he breathed a sigh of relief. Flipping it open, he briefly debated whom he should call before remembering Veronica had left her cell at home and Becky would have hers turned off because of the movie.

The icy wind whipped by his face as he dialed Dave's number, putting the phone to his ear while his eyes scanned the general area the dart had come from. His assailant would have to reveal him or herself to keep Balthazar from making the call and hopefully the sorcerer would be able to give Dave a name before he was subdued.

Dave picked up after the third ring. "Hello?"

"I'm on Perry and West 4th," Balthazar stated, getting straight to the point.

"Aaaand, you want me to what, come get you?" Dave asked sounding a little confused. "Because, if you'll remember, you're the one with the car."

"No, it'd be too late by the time you got here. I have a minute, maybe two, before the drugs knock me out," Balthazar explained. "I'm only calling to let you know what's going on."

"And, what _is _going on, exactly?" Dave's voice was soft as the severity of the situation began to sink in.

"I think I'm being kidnapped," Balthazar stated, doing his best to keep his voice level and his words clear. "I was shot with a tranquilizer dart, although I can't see by whom. They seem content to wait until I pass out before revealing themselves."

"Okay, stay there! I'm on my way!" There was the sound of hurried movement on the line and several items skittering across a concrete floor.

Balthazar could hear the metallic _clinking _of a chain link fence being shoved aside. "Where are you?" he asked, curiously. With the end of the semester came the loss of the subway turnaround for Dave's experiments. Balthazar couldn't think of any other place Dave would need to go through a chain link fence.

"Near Waverly Place and Gay Street," Dave panted.

Balthazar was surprised his apprentice was only several blocks away. He could hear the pounding footsteps and harsh breaths over the phone as Dave ran, trying to reach him before it was too late. Thinking he might at least be able to make it to the end of the street to meet Dave, Balthazar tried standing once more. He hissed in pain as his leg rebelled.

"Are you alright?" The concern was genuine, even if the question was moot.

"Unfortunately," Balthazar said, quickly glancing up and down the street. "I can't get to anywhere with more people."

"You've got to try! Once the drugs kick in...!"

Balthazar shook his head, shivering as the wind whipped past him. "It's a pretty deserted street, Dave. Not many people are out in this weather. Besides," he added, struggling against the weariness that was spreading through his body, "the drugs are already starting to take effect."

"No! You have to fight it, Balthazar! I'm coming! You just have to stay awake until I get there!" Dave cried.

"You need to listen to me, Dave," Balthazar said, his words coming more slowly has he focused on speaking clearly. "You won't get here in time. I need you to tell Veronica what happened."

"But-!"

"I didn't call expecting you to rescue me, Dave," Balthazar cut in as sharply as he could, trying to pre-empt the guilt he knew Dave would be feeling after he was taken. "I just don't want you to waste valuable time waiting for me to come back." He paused, giving the younger man a chance to respond. When he didn't, Balthazar continued. "Do you know which theater the girls went to?"

"I- I- no, I don't!"

"Then you'll have to wait until the movie is over. Veronica left her phone at home," Balthazar sighed, his voice becoming softer as he did his best to stay awake. He knew he didn't have much longer. "It should be over in...in..." He shook his head, unable to focus well enough to do the math.

"Balthazar?!" Dave's tone was definitely panicked.

Balthazar smiled slightly. "You need to calm down Dave," he ordered, his words starting to slur together. "You can't help anyone...if you can't focus. They want me alive which... means this could be a trap...meant for you."

"We're gonna find who did this!"

The tone was still high-pitched, but Balthazar couldn't concentrate enough to identify the emotion coloring it. His entire body felt incredibly heavy and he was mildly surprised to realize he had closed his eyes at some point. Although he tried, it took too much effort to force them back open. "Just...remember...you..." Each word was softer than the last, his voice fading away as he lost consciousness.

Dave stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, clutching his phone tightly as there was a muffled thump, followed by the skittering sound of plastic across concrete. "Balthazar? Balthazar!" Dave cried frantically.

All he could hear for a few seconds was the wind whistling past the phone and then nothing but silence as someone disconnected the call.

**. . . **

Dave was gasping for breath as he finally rounded the corner of Perry and West 4th, taking a few precious seconds to bend over with his hands on his knees, gulping air like a drowning man. "Balthazar," he panted, a cursory glance up and down the street yielding no sign of his master. He shakily pushed himself back upright, almost tripping as he hurried down the street. "Balthazar!" he yelled, panic and fear fueling the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The streetlights were lit, the wind shaking the trees and sending their shadows running back and forth across the ground. Dave was oblivious to the cold as he searched, his eyes darting frantically from shadow to shadow, almost desperately hoping to find his master lying in one of them. Logically, he knew Balthazar was already gone. Athletic he was not, and it had taken him far too long to get here. However, Dave couldn't accept that he had failed his master when he needed him most.

It was the bag that caught his attention, lying on the ground next to a decorative fence around a tree. He might have missed it altogether in the poor light were it not for the thin plastic crinkling loudly as the wind continually tried to tear it away from the books holding it in place.

Balthazar hadn't said what he was doing, but Dave thought it highly unlikely someone else had left a bag of recently purchased books outside in the elements, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Although the dancing shadows made it difficult to tell for sure, he didn't see Balthazar's phone anywhere on the ground.

The cold suddenly registered with a vengeance and Dave turned away, putting his back to the wind and wrapping his shaking arms around himself in a vain attempt to preserve his body heat. In doing so, he found himself facing a set of steps leading up to a door set back into the building. A black object was caught in the corner, the wind almost pushing it out of the enclosure before another gust whisked it back to the corner. Curious, Dave quickly mounted the steps, picking up the object and holding it in the streetlamp's light. His face fell as he recognized the item, the shaking in his hands not entirely brought on by the cold or exhaustion.

Retrieving the bag of books, Dave numbly made his way to the Arcana Cabana to wait for Veronica and Becky, Balthazar's hat clutched tightly in his hand.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	8. Chapter 8

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 8**

Balthazar returned to consciousness slowly, his hazy mind trying to piece together what was wrong with him. Chains clinked against each other and he felt himself lifted up to almost a sitting position, only then realizing that his arms were tied together above his head. He managed to raise his head a little, his narrowed eyes shying away from the meager light. The chains rattled again and he was lifted a bit higher, his knees just able to brush the floor. Something deep inside told him this was a bad thing even if he couldn't understand why and he forced his head up, looking towards the light.

"Ah, so you're awake," a familiar voice commented.

Balthazar squinted, trying to make his eyes focus on the person standing beyond the lantern. The voice was snide but intimately familiar and he felt he should know to whom it belonged...

"I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. You never were one to take defeat gracefully," the voice continued.

Something clicked in Balthazar's mind and he suddenly had a name and memories to associate with the voice. "Horvath," he muttered, his voice a bit weak. He tried to remember the events that lead up to this moment, but could not seem to dredge up the memories. He debated with himself whether it would be wise to ask what happened and thus reveal a potential weakness to his enemy. As Horvath turned a long, metal handle, and Balthazar was lifted higher into the air- now only able to reach the floor if he stretched his foot down -he realized he couldn't be much more disadvantaged than he already was. "What happened?" he asked.

"Why, I would think that would be obvious, old boy," Horvath said, his voice a bit strained as he slowly turned the crank. "I won."

Balthazar's mind seemed to be clearing, although the words weren't making any more sense. "You won what?" he asked.

"Our little game. The one we've been playing for centuries." Horvath shrugged. "Although, I do have to admit, even without your magic I thought you'd be a bit more difficult to capture."

As if triggered by the words, the memory replayed itself in Balthazar's mind. He shook his head, trying to focus on the present as the chains creaked in protest and he was jerked higher in the air. "So, what happens now?"

"Those drugs really did a number on you, didn't they?" Horvath asked, chuckling as he set a steel bar between the gears and turned to fully face Balthazar. "Then allow me to set your mind at ease by spelling it out for you: I'm going to kill you."

Balthazar blinked slowly. "And?" he prompted, his tone almost bored.

Horvath frowned. "What do you mean, 'and?' And, what?"

"We both know you love to hear yourself talk, Horvath," Balthazar said in a resigned tone. "What wretched fate do you have in store for me?"

Horvath seemed rather put off by his enemy's calm acceptance of the situation. "You won't be able to escape, Balthazar," he said, heatedly. "And, don't expect your little apprentice to save you, either! No one knows where you are but me!"

"About that," Balthazar said, looking around. "Where are we, anyway?" From what he could see, they were in a large room, a series of catwalks crossing the ceiling. A system of pulleys was mounted below that, one of which Balthazar was hanging from. The room behind him was filled with large wooden crates stacked on top of each other, at least three high. There was rust on the chains and tracks through the thick dust covering the floor. "Is this some sort of abandoned warehouse?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not really your style, is it?"

"Has anyone ever told you, you make a very poor victim, Balthazar?" Horvath asked, irritated. He turned back to the crank, removing the bar and straining to turn the stubborn handle.

"I've never really been in a position where that would come up, no," Balthazar replied easily, his mind already turning over what he knew of the situation and examining it from every angle. It was difficult to plan an escape when he didn't know what his enemy intended to do with him.

Balthazar was pulled from his musings as Horvath grunted loudly, the chain jerking upward as a rusted part of it was forced through the pulley. He swung slightly from the rough movements, ignoring the protest from his stomach at the motion. Whatever Horvath had used to knock him out clearly didn't agree with him. He tried to distract himself from the slight nausea, focusing on his captor instead. Horvath was panting from the exertion, inserting the bar once more to hold the gears in place before leaning against the wall and taking a quick break.

"You seem to be having some difficulty," Balthazar called down to him, smiling at the fierce glare sent his way. "Such a nuisance, not having an underling around to do the manual labor, isn't it? Perhaps you should have considered that before you killed the last one," he mused, lazily. "You're not getting any younger, after all."

"While I thank you for your concern," Horvath spat, sardonically, "I should think you would do well to worry more about your own skin."

"One does have to wonder, however," Balthazar continued, ignoring the interruption, "why you simply don't use magic?"

Horvath flinched, quickly turning his attention back to the crank to hide it. "Has your memory failed you, Balthazar? You've yet to return my cane to me."

Balthazar snorted. "You've had plenty of time to find a replacement. You could have even taken mine," he stated, rubbing his thumb over the ring still resting on his finger. "You incapacitated me using a tranquilizer dart, you obviously dragged me across the floor yourself and now you're using a manual pulley to lift me up here. You haven't used even an ounce of magic, and I think it's more than just trying to keep Veronica from tracking you."

"Oh? And what other reason might I have?" Horvath snipped, angrily wrenching the handle and lifting Balthazar higher.

Balthazar was silent for a moment, considering. His eyes widened in suddenly realization. "Battery Park," he stated, wondering why he hadn't realized it sooner. "With Dave's Tesla coil." He gazed down at the Morganian, feeling sympathetic despite the situation. "You lost your magic."

Horvath scowled. "It would appear that I am in the same boat as you," he said, lip curled in disgust. "But, not for long."

"You know there's no way to get your magic back after being electrocuted like that," Balthazar stated.

"I know that!" Horvath snapped. He took a breath, visibly calming himself down before he continued. "But, that is not what I am talking about. As I said before, I'm going to kill you."

Balthazar gazed a little uneasily at the ground, some twenty-five to thirty feet below him. While Horvath, not liking to get his hands dirty, generally left the actual act of torture to someone else, Balthazar felt he would make an exception in this case. "I imagine it won't be a quick death, else you would have shot me with a gun instead of a tranquilizer dart."

"Indeed," Horvath agreed, smiling as he slid the steel bar between the gears once more. "As you may have noticed, this place doesn't get a lot of traffic these days- in fact, it hasn't been used in decades." He moved over to another crank, this one turning more easily than the other.

The pulley slid across the rails, Balthazar swinging freely as he was pulled backwards along with it. He closed his eyes as nausea gripped him again, breathing deeply to help settle his stomach.

"I considered many different ways to kill you," Horvath continued, maneuvering Balthazar into position. "A gun was the most obvious choice, but it's too quick for my taste. I toyed with a number of conventional methods of torture, but they make a rather large mess and I don't think they would break you," he said, sliding another bar in between the gears. "You seem to have developed quite the high tolerance for pain over the years."

Balthazar's stomach settled somewhat as the swinging slowed and he chanced opening his eyes to look below him. He had been moved over the stack of crates, one sitting on top of all the rest. The lid was off and Balthazar was positioned directly above it, although it was too dark for him to see what was inside.

"So, I decided to go for a different type of torture," Horvath continued, turning to face his captive audience. "You've always been a man of action, Balthazar. Nothing frustrated you more than when there was something to be done, yet you were forced to sit back and wait. So, I'm going to lock you in that crate. I've provided you with plenty of water, so you don't have to worry about dehydration."

"You're going to lock me in a crate and starve me to death?" Balthazar repeated, taken aback by the oddly pedestrian nature of the 'torture' he was to endure. Given their long and colorful history, he had expected something a little more imaginative. "I know you don't have your magic anymore, but that's really the best you could come up with?" he asked, not quite sure if he should be insulted or not.

"I'm told that it is possible to live for weeks, perhaps even a month or more without food," Horvath continued, ignoring the interruption, "which will give you plenty of time to contemplate a number of things, such as your ultimate defeat at my hands. Or, your utter uselessness despite the ring on your finger. Oh, and of course there's what I have in store for young David...and Veronica."

Balthazar stiffened, irrational fear gripping him even though he knew both Dave and Veronica were much better equipped to face Horvath than he was. "Touche," he muttered, doing his best to keep his face blank.

"The Prime Merlinian is very young, isn't he?" Horvath continued, contemplatively. "Young, inexperienced...and in love. One would think he would have done something to protect his girlfriend after our meeting in Stone's apartment, but..." He let the sentence trail off, shrugging as his lips twisted into a cruel smile. "It will be simple to subdue her again and, once I have her, young David will be completely at my mercy."

"She's not involved in this, Horvath," Balthazar bit out between clenched teeth. Rebecca shouldn't have to suffer merely because Dave liked her. "Leave her out of it."

"David has made far too much of a nuisance of himself in the past to be left to his own devices, and he's already proven he's willing to do _anything _to keep her from harm," Horvath returned. "However, I'm afraid the girl will have to die as well. After they are both gone, poor Veronica will be left all alone in this strange new world, without anyone to turn to." He chuckled, his laughter dark with cruel pleasure. "No one, that is, except me. The timing is very important of course, and David and his girlfriend's deaths will have to look like an accident, but it won't be too difficult to convince Veronica I've 'seen the error of my ways.' She always was the optimist, wanting to see the good in everyone."

"There hasn't been any 'good in you' for the last millennium," Balthazar spat, seething.

"You and I know that," Horvath agreed amiably, "but I'll make sure Veronica sees me in a very different light- perhaps as someone who is beaten and broken, but still redeemable. You know how she badly she wants to 'save' everyone." He shot a particularly nasty grin at his rival. "And, with you out of the way once and for all, she will finally be _mine_."

Balthazar snarled, struggling futilely against his bonds. "If you so much as _touch _her, I swear I'll-"

"You'll what? Glare at me from your cage?" Horvath mocked. "Face it, Balthazar, I have beaten you in every possible way, and you are completely powerless to do anything about it." He pulled a pocket watch from his vest, checking the time. "It seems our time together is at an end. I have to be in position before the girl heads home," he stated matter-of-factly, moving to retrieve something from the shadows by the wall. His grin was pure malice as he raised the tranquilizer gun. "Goodbye, Balthazar."

**. . . **

Dave dropped the Encantus on the table in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "Why?" he demanded, glaring at the Merlin Circle in the basement of the Arcana Cabana. "Why isn't it _working? _What am I doing _wrong?"_

His head snapped up as he heard the chime that announced the arrival of someone in the store above. He leapt from his seat and ran up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. He stopped short as he entered the shop, a bit stunned to find Veronica and Becky laughing.

"And, I swear, every word of it is true," Becky finished, turning to close the door behind them.

Veronica had opened her mouth to reply when she caught sight of Dave standing across the room. "Dave? What's wrong?" she asked, all levity gone as she took in his disheveled appearance. "What has happened?"

"Didn't you get my message?" he asked, looking at Becky.

The blonde blinked. "I must have forgotten to take my phone off vibrate," she said, digging through her purse to find it.

Dave shook himself, quickly re-gathering his thoughts. "Never mind that," he said, his eyes going back to Veronica. "Balthazar's been kidnapped!"

Veronica froze, her eyes widening in shock. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dave started pacing back and forth behind the counter, his nervous energy refusing to let him stand still. "I was at home when he called. He told me where he was and said he'd been shot with a tranquilizer gun, but couldn't see who had done it. Said he was just calling to let me know so we didn't waste time waiting for him to come back." Dave stopped, turning back to Veronica helplessly. "I got there as fast as I could, but it was too late! He was already gone!"

"Take me there," Veronica commanded, determination and something a bit darker hardening her features. Her eyes were as cold as ice as she whirled around, purposeful strides carrying her back out into the cold.

"Stay here, Becky," Dave said, scrambling along in the sorceress's wake as he hurried to catch up. Veronica paused at the sight of Balthazar's car, remembering he could not start it himself. "Which way?" she demanded, turning to Dave.

"Left," Dave answered quickly, matching her pace as she immediately headed in that direction. "Perry and West 4th, just a few blocks from here."

"Did he say where he was shot?" she continued in a clipped tone.

Dave blinked in surprise, not seeing how that was a pertinent detail. Just the same, he thought back over the brief conversation with his master. "No," he answered after a moment.

"Did he pass out or was he subdued?"

Dave's brow furrowed in confusion as he quickened his pace to keep up with the sorceress. "Knocked out," he answered. "He said he couldn't see anyone, so he figured they were going to wait until the drugs kicked in."

Veronica turned to him sharply, not breaking her stride. "Drugs?" she demanded. "You made no mention of drugs."

Dave gaped at her for a few seconds before he realized what the problem was. "A tranquilizer," he said, shaking his head. "It's a type of sedative. Basically like a sleeping pill, only administered through a dart."

Veronica's eyebrows drew together as she considered that before nodding once in understanding.

Dave hesitated slightly, waiting for more questions. When none were forthcoming, he went on. "I tried finding him with a tracking spell in the Encantus, but I couldn't get it to work." He shook his head in frustration. "I followed the instructions to the letter! I'm sure I was doing it right, but-"

"It would not work," Veronica interrupted, keeping her eyes forward. "It can only track those who have magic and I do not believe what little residue has soaked into his clothes would provide a strong enough signal to follow. Besides, Balthazar put safe guards in place to hide himself from such spells long ago. He would not have survived if Morganians could find him so easily."

Dave's shoulders slumped, mentally berating himself for not realizing what should have been obvious. "Wait," he said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, 'residue in his clothes?' Like, spells he put on his clothes, or something like that?"

Veronica shook her head. "Sorcerers cast any number of spells every day. Anything in the vicinity of the spells will usually absorb a small amount of it, although it is much too small to sense. The clothing worn by a sorcerer, however, is almost constantly absorbing miniscule amounts of magic from every spell cast," she explained.

"But, wouldn't that take away from the strength of the spell itself?" Dave asked. "Seems kind wasteful to be throwing away magic like that."

"It is not the magic itself so much as it is the essence," Veronica said. At Dave's confused look, she tried to elaborate. "Think of it like a meal," she said after a moment. "You walk into the room and you can smell the food. The taste is not affected by how strong or weak the scent may be, but the aroma may linger on your clothes long after you have left."

Dave blinked. "Okay, that makes sense," he said, nodding. "But, it's not enough to track him?"

"I do not believe so, no," Veronica said. "If we had the articles of clothing themselves, we could get a sense of where they have been, but without that..." She looked up, reading the sign in the pale streetlight. "We are here. Show me where he was taken."

Dave looked around, getting his bearings. "Over here," he said, hurrying down the street. He stopped at the tree where he had found the books. "It was right here."

Veronica closed her eyes, hands out as she felt for the any magical energies around her. She walked slowly around the area, headless of the wind as it tore at her hair and clothes.

Dave watched her work, wrapping his arms around himself as he realized he had again neglected to grab a thicker jacket.

Veronica paced the area for a few moments before letting her arms fall to her sides. "He was not taken by magical means," she said at last.

"Uh, yeah, he told me he was shot with a tranquilizer gun, remember?" Dave asked.

Veronica shook her head. "That is how he was subdued," she said, trying to explain. "But afterwards, when he was moved into a vehicle or one of these buildings, there was no magic cast to aid his captor. No one used a memory spell or persuasive suggestion to disperse any civilians who might have seen what happened or tried to interfere. No magic has been used in this area for some time."

Dave could hear the despair in her voice. "Isn't that a good thing?" he asked, a little uncertainly. "I mean, we know some Morganian didn't get him, right?"

"Is it commonplace for kidnappers to make use of tranquilizer guns?" Veronica asked.

Hesitantly, Dave shook his head.

"Magic clings to the caster after a spell has been cast. A skilled sorcerer can follow that trail as a bloodhound would a fox to its den. Similarly, someone who does not wish to be found out would be careful to plan out a way to capture his target without leaving a trail to follow." She gazed at the young man, helplessly. "Without that, we have no way to find Balthazar."

**. . . **

Balthazar woke slowly, blinking owlishly in the darkness. He didn't move for several long moments, the haze clouding his mind gradually fading. As awareness returned to him, he realized he was lying on his side, several uncomfortable oblong objects underneath him. He tried to roll on to his back, blinking as he encountered a wall. He shifted, his entire body feeling heavy and cumbersome as he worked to pull the offending items out from underneath him. It took a surprising effort to shift until he was lying on his back, bemused to find both his head and feet pressed against two more walls, forcing him to keep his knees bent.

Balthazar heaved himself to a sitting position in an attempt to clear away the last vestiges clouding his mind. He noted the lethargy plaguing his limbs seemed to be lessoning and he turned his attention to where he was and why. The memories were a little muddled from the drugs still coursing through his system, but it was easy enough to piece together what happened. "Horvath," he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the chill. It seemed his leather duster had been confiscated.

Although worried about Rebecca and Dave, he couldn't do anything to help or warn them until he figured out how to get out of here first. He took a few moments to familiarize himself with his new surroundings, using his hands to explore the darkness. The crate he was in seemed to be square, made of sturdy wood that he doubted he'd be able to break. Horvath had been true to his word; over half of the floor was covered with cold plastic bottles, supposedly filled with water, although Balthazar couldn't be sure in the darkness. He carefully rose to his feet, one hand above him to prevent painfully introducing his skull to the ceiling of his prison. There wasn't height enough to stand straight, forcing him to hunch his back with his head down, but it was enough to stretch most of his body.

Once the cursory examination was done, Balthazar tried to remember what he had seen while Horvath was hauling him up to this cage. There had been numerous crates all stacked together- two high? Three? He shook his head, unable to remember clearly. Balthazar shifted, trying to gage the height of the crate, using his own height to measure it against. He decided it was probably around five feet tall. Assuming the rest of the crates were of the same size, that meant he would fall ten to fifteen feet, depending on whether the crates were stacked two or three high, should he manage to push the one he was in over the edge. He did remember that this crate seemed to be located roughly in the middle of the rest, although it was on the very topmost layer above the others. Just getting to the edge would be quite a feat in and of itself.

Given enough time, of which he now had plenty, Balthazar felt reasonably sure he could move the crate to the edge and then push it over. A fall of fifteen feet wouldn't necessarily kill him, although he could end up with a few broken bones. Still, it was better than the alternative.

Balthazar began rearranging the numerous bottles of water, stacking them as high as he could along one side of the crate, leaving a space open in the middle. The two-liter bottles didn't stack very well, but it was only a few minutes before he had them packed as tightly as he could get them, focusing all of the weight on one side of the crate.

Standing hunched against the opposite side, Balthazar tried to get as much momentum as he could in the cramped space, ramming his shoulder in the empty area he had left in the middle of the wall. The crate shuddered, but did not move otherwise. Backing up, Balthazar tried it again. And again. And again.

The monotonous repetition did not require much thought, allowing Balthazar's mind to wander. It was obvious Horvath had been watching him for some time. _Thud_. He knew Rebecca had been there and probably knew the most likely route she would take to get home. _Thud_. However, Dave would probably escort her home himself, in light of Balthazar's abduction. Horvath would know this and take Dave's paranoia into account. _Thud_. Perhaps the ambush waited inside her apartment? Magic or not, Horvath had enough charisma to charm the scales off a snake if he wanted to. It would be an easy matter to convince the roommate to let him inside. And once he had Rebecca... _**Thud**_.

Balthazar decided it was time for a break when his throat began to burn for want of water. Carefully removing one of the bottles from the stack, he slumped against the wall, resting his arms across his drawn up knees as he unscrewed the lid. He sniffed the contents, more out of ingrained habit than any expectation of poison. Horvath wanted him to suffer for weeks before finally withering away and dying. Poison was much too quick for his sadistic tastes.

The water was cold, a little more so than he would have liked, but it tasted good all the same. He swallowed a few mouthfuls before replacing the cap, his harsh breaths the only thing breaking the silence.

His mind wandered back to Horvath. Once he had Rebecca, the first logical thing to do would be to strip Dave of his magic. Balthazar consoled himself that Horvath couldn't hurt Rebecca prior to that for fear of Dave lashing out and inadvertently revealing Horvath's bluff. If Horvath played his cards right, Dave would probably electrocute himself willingly to save Rebecca. After all, Horvath let her go last time after he got what he wanted. Dave would have no reason to think he'd be lying this time. After that, they would both be at Horvath's mercy.

Balthazar shook his head to dispel his grim thoughts, pushing himself back to his feet and focusing on the cold plaguing his limbs instead. Replacing the bottle as carefully as he had removed it, and using his hands to get his bearings, he backed up and continued throwing himself against the side of the crate. With nothing else to distract him, he fell back to thoughts of what Horvath had in store for Dave and Rebecca, his mind conjuring one cruel fate after another. The crate shuddered with each impact of his shoulder, but did not move otherwise.

Some time later- maybe an hour, maybe two, time had lost all meaning the dark -Balthazar rammed into the wall once more, particularly aggravated by his active imagination. It was maddening to only guess at what was happening outside his prison and his patience and strength were wearing thin. He snarled in anger as he hurled himself at the wall again, pausing to take a few gasping breathes when he realized something was different. He had clearly felt the crate start to tip many times, but it was never enough to make it fall completely on its side. This time, however, it leaned farther than it had before and almost seemed to balance on its edge. Practically in slow motion, the crate continued to tip, slowly at first and then quickly gaining speed as it slammed onto its side.

Balthazar, now laying on the floor, shielded his head with his arms and curled into a fetal position as the previously stacked bottles of water fell on top of him. The bottles were many and heavy, quickly burying him beneath their cold weight.

Balthazar groaned as he sat up, pushing the bottles off him. He waited a moment for the new aches and pains to fade a bit, his anxiety easing just the tiniest bit now that he'd made some progress. He was now five feet closer to freedom. He didn't know which direction he was moving in and he couldn't remember how many crates he'd need to cross to reach the edge, but it was still progress. His lips twitched in the barest ghost of a smile before he heaved himself back to his feet, stacking the bottles against the wall once again.

The hours passed in darkness, morning bringing with it a few trickles of light between some of the boards. The cracks weren't big enough to allow an actual beam of light through, but it was enough to allow Balthazar to see the vague outline of the bottles against the crate's side easily enough.

The old sorcerer sat back, panting heavily as he took another break. He plucked a water bottle from one of the stacks, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. The frigid liquid left an icy trail down his throat and chest as he swallowed and he shivered from the cold. Any extra heat gained from his physical exertions was quickly and ruthlessly stripped away each time he wet his parched throat.

Balthazar replaced the bottle, leaning wearily against the wall in the semi-darkness. His body began shaking involuntarily, shudders running up and down his spine in an effort to regain some of the lost heat. It only lasted a few irritating minutes, easing off as he acclimated to the temperature inside the crate once more.

Balthazar rubbed his tired eyes, the lids heavy with fatigue and feeling a bit gritty due to lack of sleep. He had been trying to roll the crate all night long, only succeeding in doing so twice. Lethargy was slowly creeping back over him and his shoulders throbbed in time with his heart, protesting the repeated abuse. He yawned, pondering the merits of sleeping.

While it was definitely cold, Balthazar knew from experience that hypothermia wouldn't be a problem in these conditions unless he did something stupid, such as drenching his clothes with the cold water. Plus, as the sun had now risen, it would only get warmer as the day wore on- not warm enough to be _comfortable _per se, but enough to make him less _uncomfortable_. His energy was also flagging. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think he had been able to hit the crate hard enough to make even part of it lift up for a good hour, at the least. He needed to rest.

Sighing, Balthazar shifted until he was laying on his side and curled into a ball, one arm cushioning his head while the other wrapped around his midsection. He cleared his mind of all thoughts, doing his best to keep it blank instead of wondering what Horvath might have in store for Dave and Rebecca, and tried to get some sleep.

**. . . **

Veronica and Dave spent the morning talking to as many people as they could on Perry and West 4th, trying to find someone who may have seen something the previous night. After several fruitless hours of searching, they returned to the Arcana Cabana. Becky, who had been watching the shop, didn't need to ask how the search had gone. Their expressions said it all.

Veronica paced the room, clearly agitated. "Several, _thousand _people live in the area," she said darkly, her voice low. "And not _one _of them saw a thing!"

"New York isn't exactly known for its friendly neighborhoods," Dave muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair. "What are we gonna do?"

"What about the police?" Becky suggested, sitting on the stool behind the counter. Her arms were folded, resting on the glass top as she watched the sorcerers.

Veronica glowered at the bookshelf in front of her before turning sharply on her heel as she continued pacing. "I wish for no help from _them_," she said, contemptively. "We should end up their prisoners ourselves before they would offer assistance."

"I think Becky's right," Dave said, meeting Veronica's dark gaze. "Look, I know you haven't had any good experiences with them," he said, holding his hands up placatingly. "But, they do this all the time. Search for missing people, I mean. And, who knows? Maybe someone will come forward with something they saw. People are more likely to talk to cops than a random person asking questions on the street."

Veronica had stopped pacing, giving Dave a long look before sighing. "If you truly believe they will aide us in locating Balthazar," she said at last, "then I shall not stand against this plan. Let us bring this matter before them."

"I think I should stay here," Dave said.

Veronica blinked. "For what reason?" she asked.

"Balthazar said that someone may be trying to use him to get to me," Dave answered, a little uncomfortable. He glanced at Becky and she shook her head. "No one's called, but I don't think we can rule out that possibility just yet. I think I should be here in case they do- or if they decide to just show up instead."

Veronica considered Dave's words. "If they are truly after you, then it would be wise for you to make the report to the police. I shall remain here," she stated, holding up a hand to forestall Dave's objections. "I am more experienced in sorcery than you and thus better equipped to deal with any threat that may present itself."

Although not wanting to put Veronica in the line of fire if someone was indeed after him, he couldn't argue her point. He nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her plan.

"In any case, there are a few more things I'd like to try," she said, turning to head down to the basement.

Dave hesitated slightly, chewing on his lip before turning to Becky. If someone really was out to get him, she would be a prime target. "Would you mind staying with her?" he asked.

Veronica gave Dave an indecipherable look before turning to Becky. "You are, as always, welcome to stay, if you wish," she stated. "But, there is no need for it. I shall be fine on my own- I have had some little time to adjust to this new era."

"It's not that we think you can't take care of yourself," Becky hastened to assure the sorceress. "It's just, well," she dropped her eyes to the glass counter, idly tracing designs on its surface. "If it was Dave that had been taken, I don't think I'd want to be alone right now." She looked up, meeting Veronica's gaze earnestly. "Besides, I can watch the shop for you, so you can do whatever you need to without interruptions."

Veronica gave her a sad smile. "You are a true friend, Rebecca," she said softly. "I shall be glad of your company."

Once things had been squared away at the store, Dave headed to the police station. It took him about half an hour to get there and he was bit surprised to find it buzzing with activity. Phones were ringing, people hurried about with file folders and papers in their arms and several other people were sitting on the benches in what Dave assumed to be the waiting area. He gave his name and reason for being here to the front desk clerk and was then directed to 'have a seat' until an officer could speak with him. It was another fifteen to twenty minutes before his name was called.

"Stutler," a tall, barrel-chested man called above the din, his voice gruff. His hair was close-cropped, starting to go grey at the temples, and his features seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. He was solidly built, broad shoulders and thick arms filling out his uniform. One meaty hand clutched the clipboard as his hazel eyes scanned over it before handing it back to the clerk behind the front desk. "David Stutler."

Dave raised his hand a bit nervously, rising to his feet. He was somewhat disconcerted to find his eyes level with the man's chin.

The officer grunted at the skinny youth. "Officer Ryan," he introduced himself, shaking Dave's hand firmly.

Dave couldn't help but imagine those fingers crushing his bones to dust.

"This way," Officer Ryan stated, either oblivious or ignoring Dave's discomfort as he led the way back to his desk.

Dave followed a little uneasily, winding his way between the desks in the bull pen and doing his best not to bump into anyone else in the crowded space. The officer led him to an empty desk cluttered with file folders and paperwork. He sat in the chair behind the desk while motioning Dave into the chair next to it.

"Name of the missing person?" Ryan asked without preamble, pulling a form from one of the desk drawers.

"Uh, Balthazar Blake," Dave answered.

"Spell the first name."

"B-A-L-T-H-A-Z-A-R."

"Common spelling for Blake?"

"Yeah."

"Relation?"

"He's my...uh, teacher," Dave said, hesitating slightly.

The officer paused, looking over Dave a bit more thoroughly. A bit self-consciously, Dave did as well. He knew his dark brown hair was a mess from being out in the wind all morning and his red hooded sweater was zipped up against the cold. His blue and white plaid button up shirt was sticking out from beneath it and his blue jeans were a bit faded and worn. The look was completed by his dull black 'old mans shoes,' contrasting sharply with the rest of his outfit. Dave didn't need Becky to know he had 'geeky college student' written all over him.

"Uh-huh," Ryan said, after completing his visual assessment. He made a note on the form. "And, when did you last speak with Mr. Blake?"

"Last night," Dave began. "He called me on the phone-"

"Does Mr. Blake have any family in town?" Ryan cut in.

"Yeah, his wife, Veronica, but-"

"Did you contact Mrs. Blake about her husband's 'disappearance?'" Ryan pressed.

"Yes, I did. She doesn't know where he is, either," Dave stated, anticipating the next question.

"And, the reason you're here?"

Dave blinked. "Uh, to report that he's missing?" It came out as more of a question.

Ryan shook his head. "I mean, why are you here instead of Mrs. Blake?"

"Oh. She, uh, she thought it would be better if she stayed home. You know, in case someone calls in with a ransom, or something," Dave explained.

Ryan made another note on he paper. "Do you have an address or telephone number where Mrs. Blake can be reached?" he asked. He raised an eyebrow, but did not comment when Dave rattled off both from memory with no hesitation. "We'll send an officer over to investigate," Ryan said at last, moving the completed paper into an over-flowing tray on his desk as he stood, towering over Dave. It was clear the interview was over.

Dave stood as well. "But, you don't understand-"

"We have the basics," Ryan cut him off, turning towards the front. "And the investigating officer will get the details when he talks to Mrs. Blake." He hesitated slightly, before continuing. "In the meantime, you should go home," he said over his shoulder. "Study. I'm sure you'll do fine on your final." With that he headed back towards the waiting area, consulting the clipboard at the front desk before calling out the next name on the list.

Dave watched him go, jaw slack in stunned disbelief. He could see they were busy, but... He shook his head, making his way towards the front entrance. He hoped whoever they sent to talk to Veronica would be more willing to listen.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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	9. Chapter 9

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 9**

It was late by the time Dave made it back to the shop. He'd stopped by his apartment, grabbing some clothes and his dog. Bennett was heading home over the break and Dave hadn't wanted to waste time running home at least twice a day to take care of Tank. What he hadn't expected was the thank you card left with his roommate from his 'uncle.'

It was in a plain white envelope and the card itself seemed pretty standard, with just the words 'thank you' written in a flowing script. Inside was pretty standard as well, 'thank you for all the things you do' printed in light blue. But, the written message and the picture were what really got Dave's attention.

**David,**

**I am most appreciative of your services. Without your help, I wouldn't have this golden opportunity before me to 'catch up' with an 'old friend.' Unfortunately, circumstances being what they are, I'm afraid I can't thank you in person, but I'm sure you understand. Do give my regards, and condolences, to Veronica. She will be a widow very soon.**

**Sincerely,**

**Maxim Horvath **

The polaroid picture enclosed was of Balthazar. His wrists were bound above his head and he seemed to be hanging from something, although Dave couldn't tell what. His head hung forward limply, dirty blonde curls hiding his face. It was impossible to tell whether he was unconscious or dead, although Dave's mind recoiled at the latter possibility. The background was simply black, giving no clues to his whereabouts. Dave couldn't even tell if Balthazar was in front of a black curtain/wall or if it was merely shadows caused by the lack of light in the room. The picture would be of no help in finding him, of that Dave was sure. Horvath had only sent it to taunt them further.

Still, it had given Dave a lot to think about on his way back to the shop, none of it good. No one was in the shop when he walked in, although the door to the basement was open and he could see a light on down the stairs. He left his bag on the counter, letting Tank off the leash, and went down to talk to Veronica, the card clutched tightly in his hand.

The sorceress was pacing the room, the open Encantus floating in front of her as she used her finger to track her progress on the page.

"Where's Becky?" he asked. "Up in the apartment?"

Veronica shook her head. "She expressed a desire to stay here for a day or two and went home to pick up some clothes. She should be back soon. I assume the police now searching for Balthazar, as well?" she asked.

"Kinda. They were pretty busy, so I wasn't able to tell them much. But, they said they'd send someone over to get the full report," he said. "I stopped by my place on the way back to pick up a couple things, but I found this," he continued, handing her the card with the picture.

Veronica accepted the items, glancing over them curiously. She gasped when she saw the picture, eyes widening as one hand flew to her mouth. The Encantus dropped heavily to the floor, the loud _thud _echoing slightly in the open room. She spun on her heel, quickly putting her back to Dave as she hunched over the picture. Dave watched her helplessly, unsure what to do. She bowed her head, her shoulders trembling although she did not make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, Veronica straightened and took a deep breath to help regain her composure. "There is still time," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Horvath is trying to break our will, to make us think it is too late." The card crumpled noisily in her fist. After another steadying breath, she turned back to Dave, her calm mask back in place. "Do not blame yourself," she said, tossing the card on the table with some contempt although she held the picture much more reverently. "It seems it was only a matter of time."

"Why not?" Dave asked, despondent. "It's my fault. If not for leading Horvath right to Balthazar, then for failing to tell Balthazar Horvath was after him."

Veronica paused, her shoulders tensing. "How did you come to learn of that?" she asked.

"Horvath met me on the train on my way to class," Dave said, running one hand through his hair. "He said something about 'hoping to see Balthazar soon,' but I didn't realize what he meant until later. I was...distracted."

"What else did he say to you?" Veronica asked softly, picking up on what wasn't said.

"He said..." Dave hesitated briefly before closing his eyes and plowing on. "He said that I was responsible for Balthazar losing his magic." Dave turned his head away, not wanting to see Veronica's face.

"So, he was aware of that," Veronica commented softly.

Dave jerked his head back up, staring at the sorceress. "Wait- _you _knew? Then, Balthazar-" Dave took a deep breath, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why did you say anything?!" he demanded.

"What would you have had me say?" Veronica asked, still calm.

Dave opened his mouth and shut it again, not quite sure of his answer.

"It is mere speculation, nothing more," Veronica continued. "Not even Balthazar truly knows the cause. His magic may yet return."

Dave paused, glancing up at the sorrow in her voice. "You don't really believe that, do you?" he asked, a little surprised by the revelation.

Slowly Veronica shook her head. "He told me that, in every case he has come across, the sorcerer was able to perform simple spells within the first two months." She smiled sadly. "He continues to try, but..."

Dave sank into a chair, putting his head in his hands. "So. It's really my fault, after all."

Veronica crossed to his side, gently lifting his head. "No," she said firmly. "He was..." She swallowed, clenching her jaw as she forced the words out. "He was _dead_, Dave. Had you done nothing, Balthazar may have retained his magic, but not his life. I..." She shook her head, clearing her throat. "I cannot thank you enough for returning him to me. And, Balthazar feels the same way. Do not blame yourself for this."

Dave still wasn't convinced. "Maybe not for him losing his magic," he conceded, "but, I was still the one that led Horvath here." He stood, turning away from Veronica's forgiving eyes. "It's my fault Balthazar was taken!"

"Do you honestly believe that you are responsible for the actions of others?" Veronica asked, her tone sharpening to that of a reprimand. "This battle has spanned more than twelve centuries. In that time, it has gained a life of its own. Horvath is not content to fade away into the shadows simply because Morgana has been defeated. Nor would Balthazar be content to leave Horvath alone had Morgana triumphed that night."

"But-"

"No, Dave," she said, her voice softening once more. "This was bound to happen sooner or later. Balthazar knew it, although he allowed me to believe the danger was past. You cannot blame yourself for this. All we can do now is find a way to get him back," she said, holding his gaze.

Dave considered her words, finally nodding in acceptance. Whether he was to blame or not, there was work to be done.

Veronica smiled before turning back to the Encantus. "I've been reading over the tracking spells in here and I think we may be able to alter at least one to suit our needs..."

**. . . **

Balthazar woke once more in total darkness. Blinking lazily, he realized he had slept the day away and it was now after sunset. He groaned as he pushed himself to a sitting position, his entire body stiff and sore. He stretched as best he could, trying to ease some of the stiffness in his muscles before getting back to work.

The routine was much the same as the previous night, only this time the first of many hunger pangs were making themselves known. His thoughts were also still consumed by worry over what Horvath was doing to Rebecca and Dave (for he must have captured them by now). Aware both problems were only going to become worse as time passed, he did his best to ignore them by focusing completely on his actions as he tried to tip the crate on its side. Back up. Ram the wall. Repeat.

The hours passed unnoticed as Balthazar continued to progress at an agonizingly slow pace. He had managed to turn the crate twice more, but on the second turn a new problem made itself known.

The crate rocked forward from the force of Balthazar throwing himself against the wall, almost pausing as it balanced on its edge before continuing to fall onto its side. Abruptly, it hit something with a solid _thunk _and didn't move.

It took Balthazar several seconds to process what had happened and he groaned, sliding down the sloped side of the crate as he covered his face with his shaking hands. "The wall," he panted, mentally cursing how much time and energy he'd expended only to hit a dead end, literally.

He tried to catch his breath, wincing as his stomach growled loudly. Hunger gnawed at him and he snatched one of the water bottles, drinking enough to make him feel slightly ill. It took the sharpest edge off the hunger, but not much more than that. He dropped the cap as he tried replacing it on the bottle, the cold robbing his fingers of their usual dexterity and leaving them clumsy and awkward instead. Anger flared within him, the sheer intensity of it actually making his chest ache, and he was gripped by the sudden urge to lash out at everything around him. He wanted to crush the bottles surrounding him, wanted to feel the wooden boards splintering beneath his fists as he unleashed his rage.

Balthazar closed his eyes, feeling along the floor for the missing cap as the irrational fury receded as quickly as it had come. He didn't have the energy to sustain such a powerful emotion for long and knew acting out on those impulses would only cause more harm than good. His shaking fingers found the cap and he picked it up, making sure he got it on right this time. He put the bottle back, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself as his entire body shook from the cold. He rested his forehead on his knees, focusing on slowing his breathing. His stomach growled angrily, protesting the lack of substance in the water.

After Balthazar had recovered his breath somewhat, he managed to push the crate off the wall- not too difficult a feat, as it was leaning against it at a rather high angle. When that was done, he considered his options. His surest bet was probably to head straight back the way he had come. The downside was he'd have to push the crate back the fifteen feet he'd been able to move it so far, _plus _however much farther it was to the edge after that. While he was almost guaranteed to reach the edge that way, it was risky because it had taken him at least two days to cover this much distance and he could already feel himself weakening. He knew he wouldn't last long enough to escape if he tried that.

His other option was to go left or right. Balthazar closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had seen of the layout of the warehouse when Horvath had brought him here. He racked his brain for a few minutes, trying to bring up details that were marred by the feeble light Horvath's lantern had cast and the drugs that had been clouding his mind at the time. It was no use and he sat back, an almost feral growl escaping his throat in pure frustration. His stomach replied in kind.

Eventually, he decided it didn't matter. He had a fifty-fifty chance of whatever way he picked being the right way. Choosing left, he started to re-stack the bottles, fatigue weighing heavily on his shaking limbs. By the time he had finished, he could barely see the outline of the stacks in the darkness. The sun would be rising soon.

More than a bit discouraged by the wasted night (or two nights, depending on how you wanted to look at it), Balthazar considered the merits of pushing on and trying to make up for lost time. His tired and aching body rebelled at the thought, and he knew that he wouldn't do more than waste what little energy he had left. Sighing in resignation, he eased himself to the floor, wincing as every muscle protested the movement. He curled into a loose ball, forcing himself to relax his trembling limbs.

His thoughts drifted to Veronica, seeing her smiling face etched perfectly in his mind's eye. He suddenly longed to hold her in his arms once more, painful memories of the long centuries without her coming back with a vengeance. The familiarity of the feeling did nothing to diminish its intensity and he could do little more than comfort himself with his memories. He could picture her so vividly in his mind; her soft smile as she stroked Arista's back, the way her brow creased when she was feeling argumentative, the imperious way she raised her eyebrow as if daring him to contradict her, how she laughed when Horvath kissed her cheek...

Balthazar jerked fully awake, scowling at the darkness. It seemed even his subconscious was bent on tormenting him. "You'd better hope I don't get out of here, Horvath," he murmured into the silence. "Because, if I do..." He let the sentence trail off, entertaining much darker thoughts as he waited for sleep to claim him.

**. . . **

Veronica rubbed her eyes wearily, ignoring the slight burning sensation that came from not blinking nearly enough. She stood up from her chair, arching her back as she stretched her arms above her head, muscles aching from being in the same position for hours on end. Noting a number of candles had burned low, she replaced them with new ones from a box on the table, lighting them with an absent flick of her fingers. When the room was once more properly lit, she moved back to her seat at the table, fixing the blanket around Dave's shoulders along the way. The college student had made a valiant attempt to stay up researching with her before finally succumbing to the alluring call of dreams. He was slumped over the table, using his folded arms as a pillow.

Veronica sighed as she sat back down, looking at the numerous pieces of lined paper littering the tabletop, all covered in her elegant hand writing. Biting back another yawn, she pulled the Encantus closer to her, rubbing her eyes again before continuing to read through the ornate script. She leaned closer, re-reading a passage in the magical textbook before shuffling through papers to find her pen and making a few more notes. She paused halfway through, picking up a different page of scribbled notes and skimming over it before sighing. Setting it down, she took her pen and drew a line through everything she had just written.

Veronica's hand stilled as a faint pounding on wood reached her ears. Someone was knocking on the door to the shop.

Rising swiftly to her feet, she climbed up the stairs, idly noting the sound of running water from upstairs. Rebecca must be taking a shower.

Continuing on into the shop, Veronica saw two shapes standing outside the front door, their features distorted by the misted glass. She paused as her mind registered the sunlight bathing the street outside the store windows. She had been up all night.

Another knock pulled her from her musings and she quickly crossed the room, unlocking the door. The two men standing there were unfamiliar to her, but she recognized their style of clothes as the same worn by the men who had arrested Balthazar almost three months previous. One was of medium height and build with curly blonde hair while the other was a bit on the shorter side, black hair slicked back.

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm Detective Hoyt and this is Detective Lin," the blonde man said, gesturing to his partner as they both flashed their badges. "We're looking for Veronica Blake."

"I am she."

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright."

Veronica nodded, stepping back and allowing them to enter the shop. She moved to the antique couch near the store's front. "Please, have a seat," she said, seating herself in a chair positioned almost directly across from the couch. "You are here about Balthazar, correct?"

The detectives sat down, Hoyt nodding in answer to the question. "One of his students reported him missing last night," he said.

Veronica nodded.

"Do you have any idea where Mr. Blake might be?"

Veronica blinked at the question. "If I had any notion of his current location," she said slowly, "what reason would I have to contact the police?"

"Technically, you didn't contact us," Lin put in. "And when you have a student reporting a teacher missing around finals, especially when the spouse hasn't reported it..."

"I asked Dave to go in my place." Her brow furrowed slightly. "Should I have gone instead?"

"Not necessarily, no," Hoyt said slowly. "Anyone can report a missing person. We just thought that, given the extenuating circumstances..."

Veronica's gaze narrowed. "What 'extenuating circumstances' might you be referring to?" she asked, her voice a little colder.

The detectives exchanged a look before Lin cleared his throat. "Can you tell me when you last saw your husband, Mrs. Blake?"

Veronica raised an eyebrow at the blatant change in topic. "I went to see a movie with a friend two nights past," she said, trying to remain polite. "I believe it started at 8:30. I do not recall the exact time of our departure, but it must have been around 8:00."

"And, Mr. Blake was here when you left?" Lin asked. "Did he have any plans for the evening?"

Veronica shook her head. "He did not say. But Dave spoke with him last, not I. Balthazar was able to inform Dave of what was happening before he was taken."

Both detectives looked a little surprised. "I'm sorry," Hoyt cut in, "did you say Mr. Blake actually _told _Dave he was being abducted?"

"Yes." Veronica studied them carefully. "Did Dave not mention this last night?"

"No," Hoyt said. "It would have been given higher priority if he had."

Veronica tried to recall Dave's words from the night before. He had said something about not being able to tell them everything due to how busy the precinct had been. She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply through her nose as she tried to control her temper. "As I understand it," she began, "Dave received a call from Balthazar, stating he had been shot with a tranquilizer gun but could not see by whom. He gave Dave his location before he lost consciousness. Dave rushed there as swiftly as he was able, but it was already too late. He only found a bag of recently purchased books and my husband's hat."

"Where did the abduction take place?" Lin asked, holding his notepad and a pen at the ready.

Veronica looked to the side, staring unseeingly through the store window as she tried to remember the number on the building. "37 Perry St, near West 4th," she said slowly. "Dave found the books by the one of the trees out front. I can show you where exactly if you think it will help."

"You've been out there?" Hoyt asked.

Veronica gave him a withering look. "Of course I have," she said. "If a loved one was taken from you, would you sit at home bemoaning his fate, or would you go out and do all in your power to find him?" She couldn't quite keep the anger from her voice.

"Please calm down, ma'am," Lin said, holding one hand up placatingly. "We're just trying to get all the facts straight. So, you tried looking for him yourself and then contacted the police?"

Veronica closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as she forced her anger back. "Yes."

"Can I ask why you didn't contact the police first?"

"We thought we could find some...some trace of where he had been taken, someone who had perhaps witnessed the abduction, _something_ to help us find him," Veronica said, shaking her head in disgust. "But these people... This _city_... They walk with their eyes closed. If an event does not involve them directly, it might as well as not have taken place. We spent hours knocking on doors and talking to those walking down the street, but we gained nothing for our efforts." She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "At that point, Dave suggested contacting the police. He claimed you were experienced in dealing with such matters and would likely be able to assist us."

"Has anyone contacted you about a ransom or anything along those lines?" Lin asked.

"No."

"Does Mr. Blake have any enemies?"

"Maxim Horvath is the only one I know of," Veronica answered, her eyes shadowed.

"You think there may be others?" Hoyt pressed.

"I believe it is impossible to go through life without offending anyone," Veronica stated. "But if you are asking who took my husband, the answer is Maxim Horvath."

"What makes you say that?" Lin asked.

"He left a note at Dave's apartment. Dave found it last night, after he left the police station."

Both detectives blinked in surprise. "He left a note at _Dave's _apartment?" Hoyt asked. "Not here?"

"He would not be so foolish as to show himself _here _after what he has done," Veronica said darkly. "He also bears a grudge against Dave and was attempting to trick Dave into thinking he was to blame. Dave tends to take responsibility for things not his fault and the notion that his actions may have led, however indirectly, to Balthazar's..." Veronica closed her eyes, unable to finish that sentence. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, Dave would never forgive himself."

"Can we see the note?" Lin asked.

Veronica nodded, rising gracefully to her feet. The detectives started to stand as well, but she motioned for them to remain seated. Dave was still sleeping in the basement, after all.

She walked as quietly down the stairs as she could, ghosting across the floor to the table where she had left the card the night before. She picked up both the card and envelope, although she left the picture on the table. There was nothing they could glean from it, but if the camera copied more than just a visual record, then she may be able to use it. Cameras were one of the many things she had not yet had a chance to study in depth.

It only took her a moment or two to fetch the note and she handed it over to the detectives, returning to her seat. They read over it, exchanging a glance before turning their attention back to her.

"We're going to need to talk to Dave. Do you have his number or address, any way to get a hold of him?" Lin asked, flipping to a blank page in his small notebook.

"Dave's staying here at present, but I'm afraid he isn't up yet. It was a rather long night for both of us," Veronica said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Dave's staying here?" Lin repeated, sharing another glance with his partner.

"Let me recap, just to make sure we have everything straight," Hoyt said. "Mr. Blake called his student, Dave, and told him he was being abducted two nights ago. After searching for Mr. Blake yourselves, Dave came down to the station and reported him missing the next day- yesterday. Last night, Dave found this note at his apartment and decided to spend the night here. Is that correct?" he asked. Veronica nodded. "I'm sorry to have to ask this, but what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Dave?"

Veronica blinked. "Dave is a dear friend," she said, confusion evident in her tone. "What does that have to do with...?"

"_Just _friends?" Hoyt clarified. "Nothing more intimate than that?"

Veronica blinked again, her tired mind having trouble following the jumps in the conversation. It took a couple seconds to catch up, but once it did her blood began to boil. "Are you accusing me of infidelity?" she asked quietly, her soft tone accentuating the dangerous undercurrent in her words.

"No one's accusing you of anything," Lin assured her. "These are just routine questions we have to ask."

"Since when is it _routine _to _impugn _a lady's honor?!" Veronica spat, her eyes flashing. "To question her loyalty to her husband as if she were nothing more than a _tavern wench _in a _port _town?!"

"Please, Mrs. Blake, calm down," Lin said, one hand raised placatingly. "A number of missing persons reported end up being tied to infidelity, or assumed infidelity, of one spouse or the other, which is why these questions are routine. It is in no way a reflection on you," he assured her.

Veronica was not convinced but held her peace...for the moment.

"There are a few more uncomfortable questions we have to ask you," Lin continued.

Veronica nodded stiffly.

"Have you noticed any unusual behavior from Dave recently?" Lin asked.

"No."

"Has he made any advances toward you?" Hoyt continued. "His hand lingering just a little too long on your shoulder, perhaps, or have you caught him staring when he thought you weren't looking?"

Tired though she was, her anger had sharpened her mind and saw where this line of questioning was headed. "That's enough!" she exclaimed, her ring shining brightly. Both detectives' faces fell slack, dull eyes staring at her unseeingly. "You have thoroughly questioned both Dave and myself and have found no reason to believe either one of us were involved in Balthazar's abduction," she commanded. "The note is genuine and is the lead you will follow."

Both men nodded.

"Do you have any other questions for me?" she asked, her voice still hard as the glow in her ring faded away.

The detectives blinked a couple times as she released her hold on them, Hoyt shaking his head slightly as if to clear it while Lin read over the note again.

"What is Horvath thanking Dave for?" he asked.

"My husband and I took some precautions before moving here," Veronica explained. "Horvath was unable to find us. However, he knows Dave is Balthazar's apprentice and also that he is also a student at NYU. We believe Horvath found Dave and followed him here."

"So you've had problems with Horvath in past," Lin said, making a note.

"Of a sort, yes," Veronica hedged.

"Were any formal complaints made against him? Restraining orders, anything of that nature?"

Veronica shook her head. "No."

"Can I ask why not?" Hoyt asked.

"I haven't been living in this city of yours for very long," she said, dark eyes meeting Hoyt's gaze. "In that time, my husband has been arrested for murder when no murder actually took place and I have been interrogated by the police for defending myself against someone who threatened me with a knife and demanded everything of value I had. You'll forgive me if my first instinct is _not _to involve the police in my affairs."

Hoyt gave her a tight smile. "Well, we'd like to thank you for your time," he said, rising to his feet, Lin mirroring his movements. "If we have any other questions, we'll be in touch."

Veronica nodded, shadowing them to the door and closing it behind them. She leaned against the door wearily, massaging her temples as she felt a headache building. Light steps on the stairs caught her attention and she turned.

"Veronica?" Becky said in surprise, entering through the back of the shop. "You're up early."

"Good morning, Rebecca," Veronica greeted. "I trust you slept well?"

Becky nodded. "Well enough. Once I gave up trying to kick Tank off the bed, anyway," she said, looking back towards the stairs leading up to the apartment. Tank apparently didn't like to sleep alone. Or on the floor. "At least he doesn't snore. Anyway, I heard the bell, so I came down to see who was here."

"Detectives Hoyt and Lin just left," Veronica stated, not bothering to hide her disdain as she moved towards Becky. "They came in while you were showering."

"By your expression, I'm guessing it didn't go so well."

Veronica sighed leaning against the counter near the register. "I'm afraid I have little faith in them discovering anything useful," she said, shaking her head.

"Any luck with altering that tracking spell?"

"Not yet." The sorceress' voice was tired.

Becky studied Veronica, noting the slumped posture and half-lidded, slightly puffy eyes. "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?" she asked.

Veronica gave her a wan smile. "I had every intention to do so. I did not realize so much time had passed until I saw the sunlight outside."

"I imagine Dave's still down there looking through the Encantus?"

"He is still down there, but he fell asleep some hours ago."

Becky shook her head. "You can't help Balthazar if you both push yourselves to exhaustion," she chided.

Veronica smiled again. "I know. I'm going to retire, for a few hours, at least," she said, heading up the stairs.

"We'll find him," Becky said, her voice soft but resolute.

Veronica nodded but did not turn around, her steps heavy as she continued up the stairs.

**. . . **

"Bishop to king's rook three."

Becky leaned forward on her stool as she studied the board intently. Her brow was knit with concentration, her hand hovering over the board uncertainly. "Which one was the rook, again?" she asked after a moment.

Marvin sighed, his teeth scraping against the counter-top as he shook his head. "It's the one that looks like a castle."

"Why don't you just call it a castle, then?" Becky asked, reaching for castle nearest the king on the opposite side of the board.

"No, I said bishop!" Marvin cried. "King's rook three is the square I want it moved to! And, you don't call it a castle, because that's not its name. That's just what it looks like."

She just raised an eyebrow as she moved to grab the bishop, instead. "Where's king's rook three?"

"It's the third square in the column where the king's rook starts the game," Marvin explained.

"So that's right...here?" she asked, setting the bishop on the board.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just say first column on the left, third row?"

"Because that's not what it's called!"

"Seems a lot easier to me," Becky mumbled as she picked up one of her pawns and moved it two spaces.

"You can't do that," Marvin was quick to correct her. "Pawns only get to move two squares on the first move."

Becky gave him a look. "Really?" she asked.

"Scout's honor."

Becky leaned against the counter, her chin resting in her palm as she obediently moved the pawn back one square. "I think you're just making half of these rules up."

Marvin's reply was interrupted by the basement door opening. "Rebecca?" Veronica called, glancing toward the blonde. "I could use your help, if you have moment."

"Sure," Becky said, sliding off the stool and meeting the sorceress halfway. "What's up?"

Veronica held up her phone. "I have gained some proficiency making telephone calls, but I'm afraid I am unable to successfully navigate the menus to view the, ah, text message Dave has sent me."

Becky accepted the phone with a smile, easily accessing the correct menu and handing it back to the sorceress.

"Ack! Pfft! Back, foul beast!" Marvin cried.

Becky turned around to find Marvin lying on his side with Arista happily rubbing against him. Whether by accident or design, the cat was keeping him too off-balance to right himself and was slowly pushing him towards the edge of the counter. Arista purred, lovingly butting her head and shoulder against the skull as she rolled onto her side and Marvin tipped over the edge with a yelp. Becky caught him, putting him back on the counter (right side up) and picked up Arista instead.

"That fiendish creature will be the death of me!" Marvin cried, highly insulted. "And, just _look _what she has done to our game!"

More than a few of the pieces on Marvin's side had been knocked down, including the king. "She was just trying to help me win, weren't you kitty?" Becky asked, scratching underneath her chin. The cat leaned into her hand, purring loudly.

Marvin _harrumphed _loudly, turning away and raising his non-existent nose in the air.

Becky looked up as Veronica quickly walked past her, slipping on her coat as she headed to the door. "Everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes," Veronica replied distractedly, slipping her phone into her pocket before zipping up the jacket. "I just need to verify something. I should be back in an hour or two," she said, slipping out the door.

Becky blinked. She hadn't seen anything abnormal in the picture Dave had sent her. Of course, there must have been a reason Dave had sent it in the first place... Becky shrugged, setting Arista on the ground when she started squirming. She'd find out soon enough.

"Shall we begin again?" Marvin asked, all insults forgiven as soon as the cat was out of sight.

Becky sighed, really wishing she had something better to do.

**. . . **

**To Be Continued**

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